That sense of connection seemed to have never existed.
It was as if he had lost something very important to him in an instant. Even for someone as calm as Wang Anfeng, it was rare to see him so restless, especially when he remembered that his maternal family established themselves in Jianghu through mystical arts. In that moment of realization, his agitation only intensified.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, when he saw the provincial official, whose expression was cold, filled with mocking intent and refusing to budge, his lowered fingers involuntarily moved, disturbing the airflow.
Hidden beneath his sleeve, the wrist and forearm immediately showed Buddhist scriptures in vermilione.
