Whitey raised its hand and scratched its round head, its mechanical eyes bursting with brilliant golden light. Its gaze turned to Bu Fang, and joy seemed to be spreading in them.
Bu Fang put his hands behind his back. Looking at Whitey standing in the darkness, he could not help but nod. He then raised his hand and patted the latter's round belly. What he felt from his palm was no longer as cold as before, but a little warm.
Whitey scratched its head again. It seemed a little more human to Bu Fang, but its aura was just as familiar.
Whitey was back at last!
…
Alone, Wushuang stood in the sky, holding his sword. As a sword expert, his fighting prowess was fearsome, and he was never afraid of fighting a large group of enemies.
