At the same time, night deepened. The villa at the foot of Mount Song lay shrouded in dark, tranquil moonlight.
"..."
Meanwhile, Ding Mian stood with his hands behind his back before the rockery in the courtyard. His towering frame cast a long, hazy shadow in the moonlight, like some phantom or demon.
But his thoughts were elsewhere. He stood staring at the rockery, his rough fingers unconsciously rubbing the edge of the iron bracer on his wrist. A complicated light flickered in his eyes, and no one could tell what he was thinking.
"Uncle Ding."
A soft, feminine voice suddenly sounded behind him.
"!!"
Ding Mian's heart lurched. He slowly turned around.
There stood Lin Si in the courtyard, though Ding Mian had no idea when he had arrived.
In the moonlight, the Songshan disciple who had been so rugged a month ago now looked somewhat gaunt, his complexion pale. Even his every movement carried an indescribably strange air.
Ding Mian knew what had caused the change, so he did not pry. He simply sighed inwardly.
"You're here."
"I hope I didn't disturb your training?"
As he spoke, Ding Mian narrowed his eyes again, carefully examining the disciple who had undergone such a transformation.
Although Lin Si stood ramrod straight and held his slender sword perfectly still, the masculine bearing he'd once had was nowhere to be seen.
"No!"
Lin Si bowed respectfully, then spoke again in a voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz:
"If there's anything you need, Uncle Ding, just say the word."
"Your disciple is listening."
He kept his attitude humble and showed no sign of letting his greatly increased strength go to his head.
"Good."
Ding Mian gave a slight nod, thought for a moment, then suddenly asked:
"By the way!"
"How is your