"Everyone, stop!" A voice rang out, full of authority. Luo Chen recognized it at once—it was his teacher, Meng Shenji!
Luo Chen turned and saw a white-haired old man hurrying down the stone steps. The old man wore a black robe. He was thin, with a slightly hunched back, but his steps were steady and strong. His hair was completely white, and the wrinkles on his face looked as if they'd been carved by a knife. Yet his eyes shone brilliantly, like two black holes that could see straight into a person's heart.
Meng Shenji, chief of the Education Committee of Heaven Dou Royal Academy!
His teacher had grown much older than he remembered!
Luo Chen remembered that when he'd become Meng Shenji's disciple, his teacher's hair had been graying, but his back hadn't been so hunched.
Those eyes hadn't changed. They were just as keen, just as composed, like a bottomless pool.
Meng Shenji came down the stone steps. His gaze swept over the tall student kneeling on the ground, then over the short, stocky student clutching his face, and finally settled on Luo Chen.
He stared at the silver-haired young man for two seconds, then furrowed his brow slightly.
"What's going on?"
The stocky student seemed to have grabbed hold of a lifeline. He scrambled over to Meng Shenji and pointed at Luo Chen, crying, "Chief Meng! This man's pretending to be your disciple, and he attacked us! Look at my face!" He pointed to his face. "He did this! He hit me! You have to stand up for me! Isn't this a slap in the face for Heaven Dou Royal Academy?"
Meng Shenji glanced down at him without saying a word. Then he raised his head and looked at Luo Chen again, slowly sweeping his gaze over him from head to toe, then toe to head, twice.
Silver-white hair fell to his waist. His left eye was a purple slit pupil, while his right was a silver-white round pupil. The Hourglass Mark between his brows glimmered faintly in the sunlight.
He stood over six feet tall, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. At the academy gates, he looked like a pine tree tempered by wind and snow.
Meng Shenji furrowed his brow even more deeply. Why did this young man seem so familiar? But where did that familiarity come from?
He didn't recognize Luo Chen, and that wasn't his fault. Ten years ago, Luo Chen had only been a six- or seven-year-old child, barely reaching Meng Shenji's waist.
Now Luo Chen was tall and thin, his hair had turned white, his eyes had changed—he looked as though God had sent him back to the forge and remade him from scratch.
"You say you're my disciple?" Meng Shenji spoke. His voice was calm and even, giving no hint of his feelings.
Luo Chen opened his mouth, about to say, "Teacher, it's me," but swallowed the words before they could leave his lips. A sudden idea struck him: he wanted to see if his teacher could recognize him on his own.
He said nothing, only gazed intently at Meng Shenji.
Meng Shenji's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't ask anything else. Instead, he raised his right hand, fingers spread slightly, and an invisible mental pressure radiated from him, surging toward Luo Chen like a rising tide.
This was Meng Shenji's test. He was taking a gamble—a gamble that this was that brat Luo Chen! A person's appearance could change, but their mental strength wouldn't!
Meng Shenji's Martial Soul was Black Demon, one of the better-quality Martial Souls in the mental domain. Having reached the Soul Douluo rank, his mental strength far surpassed that of an ordinary Soul Master.
The mental pressure wasn't too strong. He was using about thirty percent of his power, enough to force an ordinary Soul Grandmaster to their knees, begging for mercy.
But Luo Chen didn't move.
He didn't even release his own mental strength to resist. He simply stood there, motionless, letting the pressure wash over him.
Meng Shenji's eyebrows lifted. Luo Chen had withstood thirty percent. He increased it to fifty percent, but he hesitated to use too much force. From what he'd seen so far, this was likely Luo Chen, and he couldn't bear to hurt his precious disciple.
Luo Chen still didn't move. He even smiled.
At seventy percent, Luo Chen didn't so much as blink.
At ninety percent, Luo Chen merely tilted his head and rolled his neck.
Meng Shenji's pupils contracted sharply. He withdrew his mental strength and stood still, scrutinizing Luo Chen once more. His expression turned complicated—confusion, shock, disbelief, and finally an indescribable sense of anticipation.
"What's your name?" Meng Shenji asked. His voice was softer than before, but still gave nothing away.
Luo Chen looked into his teacher's eyes and read so much in those old, keen eyes.
His teacher hadn't recognized his face, but he'd already guessed most of the truth from that mental strength. There wasn't another young man in Heaven Dou City with strength like this.
"Luo Chen," Luo Chen replied. Meng Shenji's fingers trembled slightly.
"Luo Chen..." He repeated the name, as if rolling an aged olive around his mouth, savoring its flavor.
Then he smiled. It was a faint smile, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes bunched together like a chrysanthemum, dried by the passage of time.
"Who's Luo Chen? I don't know him."
Luo Chen froze.
Meng Shenji turned around and walked up the steps with his hands behind his back. His voice floated back lightly. "I had only one disciple. He went missing ten years ago, and I still haven't found him. If you happen to see him, tell him this old man has waited for him for ten years. And that chicken soup he loves? I've cooked pot after pot of it."
Luo Chen stood there, watching the stooped figure climb the steps one by one. His nose suddenly stung.
"Teacher," he called.
Meng Shenji's steps faltered, but he didn't stop. He kept walking. Luo Chen hurried after him, taking the steps two at a time, and came up behind him to support the old man's arm.
"Teacher, I'm back."
Meng Shenji stopped. He didn't dare turn around or speak, but Luo Chen felt the old man's arm begin to tremble.
After a few seconds of silence, Meng Shenji finally spoke, his voice a little stiff as he held back his tears. "Help me up. These steps are steep. If I fall, it'll be your fault!"
Luo Chen chuckled and helped Meng Shenji up the steps.
Behind them, the stocky student and the tall student stared at the scene, dumbstruck, their jaws nearly hitting the ground.
That silver-haired young man really was Meng Shenji's disciple? The person they'd stopped, insulted, and offended was the chief's own disciple?
The stocky student's face went even paler than it had when Luo Chen slapped him.
"It's over..." He dropped to the ground. "It's all over... Luo Chen's back! We were in the same grade back then. How did I not recognize him?"
Luo An'an poked her head out of the carriage and watched her brother walk away, supporting an old man. She tilted her head, thought for a moment, then turned to Lin Xiaomei and asked, "Mom, who's that old grandpa? He seems really nice to Brother."
Lin Xiaomei watched her son's back, her eyes reddening slightly. "He's your brother's teacher."
"What's a teacher?"
"Someone who's closest to you, besides your parents."
Luo An'an nodded, only half-understanding, then suddenly blurted out, "No, that's not right! Besides Mom and Dad, the person closest to Brother should be An'an!"
Lin Xiaomei was taken aback, then couldn't help laughing. "All right, all right. An'an is the person closest to your brother."
Luo Dashan stood to one side. He didn't look at the two students sprawled on the ground. His gaze stayed fixed on his son supporting the old man, following them until they vanished at the top of the stone steps.
He patted his wife on the shoulder. "Let's go. Our son said we should find an inn first. Those two haven't seen each other in ten years. Let's not disturb them yet."
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