Beneath the gilded dome of Spirit Hall's Worship Hall, incense smoke curled around the pillars and drifted lazily through the air, yet it could not dispel the oppressive atmosphere inside.
Murong Zhige stood by the hall window, gazing toward the Western Border. His back, usually straight as a pine, was slightly hunched, and his cloudy eyes were fixed on the southwest beyond the hall. His fingers clutched the windowsill tightly.
His uncharacteristic behavior had already aroused the suspicions of everyone seated in the hall. Qian Daoliu's gaze circled Murong Zhige three times before he finally spoke.
"Senior Murong, your heart has been as still as water for centuries. Why are you so restless now? What happened?"
Qian Xunji, seated below him, nodded as well. A thought seemed to occur to him, and his brows furrowed. "Indeed, Senior Murong. Why isn't my junior brother here? Could something have happened to him?"
Murong Zhige's Adam's apple bobbed, but he only grunted in a muffled voice and refused to speak.
At his side, his son, Murong Chayue, finally lost patience. He stepped forward and demanded in a low voice, "Father, where exactly did Huai'er go? You suddenly called us all to the Worship Hall, but you won't say a word. He's my son. I can't even be left not knowing where he's gone!"
Standing beside Murong Chayue, Wu Xianyun's eyes reddened. "Grandfather, Huai'er has always been stubborn. If he's done something dangerous, we should all bear it together."
"Great-grandfather, where did Brother go..." Murong Wanyue asked, her eyes red as she tugged at Murong Zhige's clothes.
Pressed repeatedly by everyone, Murong Zhige finally let out a long breath, as though it carried decades of pent-up frustration. He stepped back and leaned against a stone pillar, his voice so hoarse it sounded worn down