After a brief moment of shock.
Lu Feng swept his gaze toward the old man approaching them. The old man was slightly hunched, dressed in coarse linen robes with a wind-and-sand cloak draped over him. His white hair was somewhat unkempt, and his forehead was lined with wrinkles, carrying the weathered air of years gone by.
The old man's gaze happened to sweep over Lu Feng as well.
Their eyes met.
Lu Feng only felt that the old man's gaze was indescribably firm and sharp, like a treasured sword unsheathed after years of dust and concealment, as though it wished to show its cold gleam to the entire world.
After that fleeting exchange, the old man's gaze quickly returned to Miao Qiuping.
Sensing Miao Qiuping's restrained yet mighty aura, a trace of mournful relief finally surfaced on the old man's grief-stricken face.
As he drew near, every step the old man took appeared exceedingly heavy, bringing an inexplicable sense of oppression.
"Uncle Fan," Miao Qiuping asked, looking past the old man in every direction, "where is my father?"
As Uncle Fan approached, he suddenly dropped to his knees before Miao Qiuping.
At that kneel.
Miao Qiuping and Miao Qiuyun's faces changed drastically at once, powerful unease surging through their hearts.
Miao Qiuyun choked out, "Uncle Fan, where is Father? Say something!"
"The Clan Head, the Clan Head..." Uncle Fan clenched his fists, veins bulging across his wrinkled face. He said in grief, "The Clan Head... is dead."
Those heavy words struck Miao Qiuping and Miao Qiuyun's hearts like a gigantic hammer.
Miao Qiuping instantly collapsed limply to the ground. As despair spread through him, he felt powerless all over.
Miao Qiuyun's tears poured down uncontrollably, her eyes filled with disbelief and refusal to accept it.
Miao Qiuping struck the ground