A streak of light arrived in an instant. The newcomer was none other than Lin Bingchun.
The moment he received Lin Xiaoqing's message, he immediately stopped cultivating and rushed over.
The return of Longqing City's lord naturally caused another stir.
Pedestrians on the street stopped one after another to salute him, but Lin Bingchun had no time to respond. Taking three steps as two, he rushed into Old Zhang's Handicraft Workshop.
"Uncle Zhang!"
Lin Bingchun's voice trembled. The instant he saw Zhang Lejian's clear eyes, this iron-blooded war god's eyes reddened.
Memories surged forth like a tide—the night of blood and fire thirty years ago.
It had been the old man before him who used his own flesh and blood to shield him from a fatal blow.
Zhang Lejian turned around. His eyes, clouded for many years, were now bright as ever, and he could see Lin Bingchun clearly. "Bingchun... there are white hairs at your temples now."
Lin Bingchun could no longer hold back. He stepped forward and tightly grasped the old man's hand. "Wonderful... this is truly wonderful! If not for you back then..."
His voice caught in his throat, as though he had returned to that battlefield strewn with corpses.
Back then, he had still been a fledgling young officer, while Zhang Lejian had already been the most respected veteran among Longqing City's defenders.
"Foolish child, it is all in the past." Zhang Lejian patted the back of his hand, tears glimmering in his eyes. "Let me have a good look at you.
That green youngster from back then has now become a war god whose might shakes all directions."
Seeing this, Zhao Ling'er quietly stepped half a pace back, yielding the space to the two of them.
Lin Xiaoqing took her father's arm and softly recounted