Tingyu Pavilion, Quiet Chamber.
Fang Han had just finished his cultivation of the Profound Wind Technique. As he slowly withdrew his power, the faint cyan light circulating on the surface of his body gradually receded within him.
The sound of hurried footsteps approached from outside the door, then stopped.
"Young Master Han, the Patriarch is here. He is waiting in the living room and says it's urgent."
The maid's voice came through the door of the Quiet Chamber.
Fang Han opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing through them before disappearing.
"I'll be right there."
He straightened his robes and pushed open the door to the Quiet Chamber.
Inside the living room, the charcoal fire was warm and the fragrance of tea wafted through the air, but the atmosphere was tense.
Fang Lingyuan stood with his hands behind his back, gazing out the window at the snow that had yet to completely melt. His silhouette seemed heavy with worry.
