On the second day, Charles Qin took Sophia Su to Nanshan. As the only cultivator of the Heavenly Sword Sect, Xuanhua lived at the peak of Nanshan Mountain. When Charles Qin went, Xuanhua was sitting in the house and making tea. Seeing him bring Sophia Su in, Xuanhua seemed to have known them for a long time. When you arrive, you place the two cups of tea in the position and say indifferently, “Are you here?”
Charles Qin and Sophia Su respectfully saluted Xuan Hua, and then sat down. Xuanhua is still the same as when they met eight hundred years ago, wearing a black robe and a golden crown, and his features have not changed in the slightest. Except for his warmer temperament, the years seem to have left no trace on his face.
The fragrance of tea permeated the hall, and Xuanhua’s eyes fell on Qin Su and the two of them, and he seemed to miss them quite a bit. After a long time, he slowly said: “Zichen, is this your Fu Xiu disciple?”
“Yes.” Charles Qin nodded, rubbing the edge of the teacup, as if thinking about how to speak. Xuan Hua looked at the two of them, and after a while, sighed and said, “After I broke through to the calamity three hundred years ago, I had a hunch that one day, the two of you will come back to find me.”
Qin and Su were stunned for a moment, Xuan Hua smiled and said gently, “Qing Xu, Liu Hui, long time no see.”
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