Xuan Long was completely broken. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared at the unconscious Yueyue.
Teng Yunxiao.
That name kept echoing inside his mind, ringing like a deafening bell through his shattered soul.
Teng Yunxiao...
The name he had thought he would never hear again in this lifetime. Slowly, Xuan Long raised his head. His bloodshot eyes met An Mo's.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The wind carried clouds of grey ash and dust around them, but time seemed to stand completely still.
Xuan Long's pale lips moved. He wanted to say something. He wanted to ask if it was really possible. He wanted to say that it couldn't be him that a tiny cub's dizzy words were just a mistake. It couldn't possibly be him.
But no words came out. His throat felt painfully tight, as if a sharp blade were choking his breath.
He's here.
The thought suddenly burned through his mind with terrifying clarity.
He is here.
