The sky was just starting to turn pale, the distant mountains faintly visible through the morning mist. People were already running on the sports field. Trainees in uniform practice clothes ran lap after lap around the track.
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at those young faces, a sudden wave of emotion welling up in his heart.
It had been two years. From Xingjing to Tianchi, from Zheng Jingxuan to Lin Yuan, he had been hiding in this small city for exactly two years.
As a Martial Master Level Martial Artist, Zheng Jingxuan was an anomaly. He had never been to the battlefield and had hardly any blood on his hands, let alone having killed anyone. That case was his first time taking a life, and doing it in such a manner had undoubtedly placed him under immense psychological pressure.
