The misty light of daybreak foreboded the gloomy coldness that would last the entire day. Inside the tent, Qi Zhengyan was making all sorts of exquisite and mysterious seals with his hands. The seals, containing the implicit charm of the river, blossomed naturally.
Sinister wind began rising, passing through the room and hitting their faces with bursts of coldness. They swirled in the middle of the tent to form a vortex.
Upon seeing this scene, Jiang Zhiwei, Ruan Yushu, and Zhao Heng began feeling doubtful as they recalled Qi Zhengyan's behavior today. It almost felt ridiculous. How could he change so drastically? His meticulousness and caution made him an entirely different person.
The only thing unchanging about Qi Zhengyan was his poker face. It was already ingrained in him to keep his emotions concealed and to speak as little as possible.
"Just what exactly happened to him in the past year?"
