Ma Zi was a man of almost forty years old; his persona was exactly what his name depicts. His knife-shaped, elongated face was covered in dense and fine grain-sized black spots, which looked as if a nest of mice had just stepped in ink and ran across his face.
Next to Ma Zi, was a boy of five or six years old who had small eyes, a lion-like nose and a melon of a face. His body was skinny and weak, but his skin was extremely rough. He did not possess the radiant skin of a child at all. His expression was also very dull, but there was a strange sense of anxiety that was hidden in the depths of his gaze, which made him appear more lively and vivid, on the contrary.
At first glance, Wen Leyang felt that this child looked a little familiar, yet he could not recall where he had seen him before.
When little Chi Maojiu entered the room, he did not even take a glance at Ma Zi, but his gaze stopped at the little boy's body. He sized him up and down attentively.
