It seemed he had accidentally touched upon some secrets of the past.
Octopus was rather conflicted at the moment.
If he kept listening, he might be infringing on the Luo Family's privacy. If he stopped, this opportunity might never come again—and Ronan was not even here.
Having dealt with Ronan for so long, Octopus naturally knew that the kid actually knew very little about his grandfather's and father's past, especially their experiences in the Wilderness, yet desperately wanted to know...
If Ronan asked about it later, how was he supposed to explain? As a friend, should he be listening to this or not?
Octopus's inner conflict did not affect the outside world.
However, Luo Yuandao did not say much more. His eyes remained closed, but he looked as though he were observing something with intense concentration.
At last, he slowly raised an arm, as if trying to grasp the clouds in the sky, or perhaps welcome the brilliant sunlight behind them.
In the end, he caught nothing. Under the light spilling over the clouds, that excessively withered hand seemed as though it might turn into smoke at any moment and dissolve into the shadows beneath the clouds.
At the end of that arm, the old man's stiff fingers trembled faintly beyond his control, tracing lines with no discernible logic or concrete form.
Still, perhaps within the confines of his own mind, he was doing something meaningful. Gradually, a smile appeared on the old man's face, growing ever brighter.
Ronan silently watched the gaunt old man in the cloud shadows. That hand pointing toward the sky seemed to be pointing directly at his chest.
Of course, he also saw the old man's smile. Though his eyes were closed and the smile was directed at nothing, this was probably the kindest his