Dark clouds stretched on without end, and the sun had not been seen for days.
True Bone Peak was much quieter than before.
A woman in a crimson dress moved with lotus-like steps and soon arrived before the secret chamber.
The stone door was tightly shut, exuding a trace of tranquility. Her expression shifted as she raised a hand to push it open, yet it remained suspended in midair.
Ever since that day, Lin Fan had locked himself inside the secret chamber, copying books all day and forbidding anyone else from disturbing him casually.
Not even she dared disturb him lightly.
She sighed softly and turned to leave.
But before she had taken more than a few steps, a calm voice suddenly came from behind the stone door. "Come in."
Inside the room, a figure sat upright before a desk.
His back was straight and his gaze focused. Several yellowed volumes lay spread out before him, their covers somewhat worn and the handwriting on their pages slightly scrawled.
Yet the man wore a grave expression as he compared the writing in the books, continuously setting his brush to the white paper.
His handwriting was neat, each stroke steady—neither hurried nor slow, neither arrogant nor impetuous. His entire person seemed exceedingly tranquil.
Only, Han Yan noticed that unlike before, the ink on his brush had grown somewhat dry, and the characters on the white paper were no longer as clear and distinct as usual.
She stepped forward and began grinding ink.
After a moment of silence, she said gently, "Senior Brother, you've been copying books for several days straight."
"If you truly can't go on, take a rest."
There was a trace of consolation in her voice.
Lin Fan's brush paused, hovering above the paper without falling.
"Senior Brother, I know