Wang Dong eagerly said, "Let me go first."
However, Master Mu suddenly proposed, "How about this: you both write the path you have found on my hands at the same time, how about that?" As he spoke, he extended his hands with a smile.
Unlike his aged face, Master Mu's hands looked very young, his palms were long and delicate, his skin was like jade, faintly emitting a sparkling light, yet it was different from Wang Dong's moist skin; the jade-like texture of his palms was filled with an ancient air.
Huo Yuhao and Wang Dong exchanged a glance and, in tacit agreement, moved to either side of Master Mu.
Master Mu smiled faintly and said, "Begin."
Raising their hands at the same time and extending their index fingers, they began to write in the palms of Master Mu's hands their own paths, the paths that would accompany their cultivation for life.
The smile on Master Mu's face grew richer as their last strokes were made, and he clenched his palms into fists.
