Early the next morning.
At the summit of Linghua Mountain.
The morning light rises, casting a golden hue over the sea of clouds.
Emperor Jiang holds a wine jar, silently watching Zhang Rongfang approach again.
"Yesterday, your brother came by."
"Senior, I have no brother. It was me yesterday as well." Zhang Rongfang smiled, clasping his fists.
"..."
At this moment, Emperor Jiang is relatively sane; the morning is his clearest time of the day.
Yet even with his mental instability, seeing Zhang Rongfang with a calm expression, as if nothing had happened, stirs a slight unease in his heart.
Because with that injury yesterday...anyone would need at least one or two months of recovery, right?
But now...?
"Your injury?" He looked at Zhang Rongfang's wound area, which was completely unmarked.
