The deep moss green color, in the sunlight, carried a touch of cool bewilderment and mystery.
Those were a pair of eyes that resembled Su Yu's immensely.
He was very tall, with pale skin, silver hair cascading down his shoulders. Watching him, Han Jing somehow recalled scenes from a past life, glimpsing the Elf King—noble, elegant, as if any beautiful word bestowed upon him was a kind of blasphemy.
His face had long blurred with age; he seemed both a wise and profound elder and a noble and aloof young man.
This god-like person standing before them indeed made everyone lose their composure for a moment.
Except for the overly enthusiastic Qing Ke, everyone present understood like a mirror, no matter what this person's identity was, there was a very certain identity, that is, Su Yu's biological father.
