Upon hearing this, Song Changsheng's expression eased slightly. 'That's more like it.'
"It's so late, and he rarely stays on Vast Mist Peak. I hope nothing happened to him. I'll go look for him."
With that said, Song Changsheng turned and headed back.
By now, everyone had already left the cemetery.
Song Qingxing slowly emerged from the darkness, coming to a stop before Song Luhuai's grave. His aloof face remained utterly devoid of any particular expression.
He was uncharacteristically dressed in plain mourning clothes, his hair meticulously tied back. He stood perfectly still, silently staring at the gravestone.
After a long while, he slowly reached out and drew the Traceless Sword. This was only the second time he had unsheathed it since obtaining the blade.
