Time passed slowly in the silence, while the shifting light and shadows among the trees moved quietly.
Ning Chuan sensed the feeling in his right arm steadily returning, and the churning blood and energy within him gradually calmed. Yet at the edge of his awareness, which remained vigilant of the surroundings, he suddenly heard hurried, heavy footsteps—clearly restrained and deliberately softened!
Those footsteps... were coming along the trail he had taken into the mountains!
And they carried a familiar rhythm...
Ning Chuan's heart tightened sharply. He instantly withdrew all fluctuations of Soul Power and even made his breathing fainter, as though he had melded into the surrounding grass and trees.
He silently adjusted his sitting posture, naturally hiding his injured right arm at his side. His left hand rested casually on his knee, though it was actually ready to reach for the firewood knife at his waist at any moment.
Who could it be? A hunter from the village? Or...?
The footsteps drew closer and closer. He could already hear the newcomer's heavy breathing and the rustling of grass being pushed aside.
Finally, a tall, familiar figure appeared through the gaps in the trees at the edge of Ning Chuan's vision.
It was his father! Ning Dazhuang!
He wore an old short work jacket, and sweat covered his dark face. His eyes swept nervously across the surroundings like searchlights.
When his gaze finally caught sight of his pale-faced son beneath the shade of the trees, Ning Chuan clearly saw the muscles on Ning Dazhuang's iron-tight face twitch violently. His eyes instantly erupted with indescribable worry, lingering fear, and... a trace of relief.
"Xiaochuan!"
Ning Dazhuang let out a low roar and practically staggered over, crossing the distance to Ning Chuan in just a few strides.
First, he carefully examined his