Linghu An should be over fifty, but if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Fang Zheng would never have believed the person in front of him was that age.
His skin was delicate, his eyes clear and bright, and although there were two strands of white hair at his temples, they seemed intentional.
At first glance,
he appeared to be a graceful young man in his early twenties.
Only his demeanor did not resemble that of a young person; he walked with a vigorous stride, full of authority, and everyone instinctively lowered their heads as his gaze swept by.
Even a Three-Blood Martial Artist would behave cautiously in his presence.
"Family… misfortune!"
Linghu An spoke in a hoarse voice, thick with sorrow:
"Grandmother, the children…"
"If I do not avenge this, I swear not to be human!"
"Crack…"
The hard marble floor suddenly cracked, the cracks spreading like a web from Linghu An's feet to the door.
More than ten meters!
Fang Zheng's eyes narrowed, a hidden fear rising within him.
