"Little Feng… are you really not there?" Back at Chu Feng’s home, his mother, Wang Jing, was crying her eyes red, she was extremely emotional.
"Don’t cry, this kid has always had good fortune. Who knows when he’ll show up all fine," Chu Zhiyuan consoled his wife although he himself had become rather haggard.
Chu Feng was their only son; the news of his misfortune struck them like thunder on a clear day. The husband and wife were burning with distress and sorrow, and their state of mind had hit an all-time low.
Within the Hollow Jade Temple, Lu Tong sighed as he stood near the window looking at the verdant willow tree swaying in the wind. He became momentarily absent-minded; he regretted agreeing to Chu Feng’s Western excursion.
The moment he heard the news, he still held onto some distant hopes. He thought that Chu Feng might not have met his end at the Vatican, but after four or five days without any news of him, he had come to calmly accept this fact.
