Master and Disciple Reunited!

"Stop, all of you!" A majestic voice rang out. Luo Chen recognized it instantly—it was his teacher, Meng Shenji!

Luo Chen turned his head to see an old man with white hair hurrying down from the top of the stone steps. The old man wore a black robe; his frame was thin and his back slightly hunched, yet his stride remained steady and powerful. His hair had turned completely white, and the wrinkles on his face looked as if they had been carved by a knife, yet his eyes were startlingly bright, like two black holes capable of peering into the human soul.

The Chief of the Education Committee of Heaven Dou Royal Academy, Meng Shenji!

His teacher looked much older than in his memories!

Luo Chen remembered that when he first became his apprentice, Meng Shenji's hair had been gray, but his back hadn't been this hunched.

Those eyes, however, had not changed. They were still as sharp and calm as a bottomless pool of water.

Meng Shenji descended the steps, his gaze sweeping over the tall student kneeling on the ground, then over the short, chubby student clutching his face, before finally landing on Luo Chen.

He stared at the silver-haired youth for two seconds, his brow furrowing slightly.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The chubby student acted as if he had grabbed a lifeline; he scrambled toward Meng Shenji, pointing at Luo Chen and wailing, "Chief Meng! This person is impersonating your disciple and even resorted to violence! Look at my face!" He gestured to his cheek, "He hit me! He hit me! You must uphold justice for me! Isn't this a slap in the face to our Heaven Dou Royal Academy?"

Meng Shenji glanced down at him without a word. Then, he looked up and turned his attention back to Luo Chen, scanning him from head to toe and back again twice.

His long, 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 shimmered faintly in the sunlight.

Standing over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a narrow waist, he stood at the academy gate like a pine tree tempered by wind and snow.

Meng Shenji's brow furrowed even tighter. Why did this youth feel so familiar? But where could that familiarity come from?

He didn't recognize Luo Chen, and that couldn't be blamed on him. Ten years ago, Luo Chen was just a six or seven-year-old brat who only reached Meng Shenji's waist.

The current Luo Chen was tall and lean, his hair turned white, his eyes changed; it was as if he had been completely remade by God.

"You say you are this old man's disciple?" Meng Shenji spoke, his voice neither salty nor bland, revealing no hint of joy or anger.

Luo Chen opened his mouth, ready to say, "Teacher, it's me," but the words died on his tongue. A sudden inspiration struck him; he wanted to see if his teacher could recognize him on his own.

He remained silent, his gaze burning as he looked at Meng Shenji.

Meng Shenji's eyes narrowed slightly. Instead of asking further, he raised his right hand, fingers slightly splayed. An invisible mental pressure emanated from him, surging toward Luo Chen like a tide.

This was Meng Shenji's test. He was gambling—gambling that this was that brat, Luo Chen! A person's appearance might change, but their mental power would not!

Meng Shenji's martial soul, the Black Demon, was a high-quality mental-type soul. Having reached the Soul Doulu realm, his mental strength far exceeded that of an ordinary soul master.

This mental pressure wasn't overly strong—he was likely using only thirty percent of his power—enough to force an ordinary Great Soul Master to their knees in surrender.

But Luo Chen didn't move.

He didn't even release his own mental power to resist. He simply stood there, motionless, letting the pressure wash over him.

Meng Shenji's eyebrows twitched. He had held his ground against thirty percent, so he increased it to fifty percent. Yet, he was hesitant to use his full strength; after all, based on his observations, this was likely Luo Chen, and he couldn't bear to hurt his precious disciple.

Luo Chen still didn't move, a smile even appearing on his face.

Seventy percent. Luo Chen didn't even blink.

Ninety percent. Luo Chen merely tilted his head and cracked his neck.

Meng Shenji's pupils contracted sharply. He withdrew his mental power and stood where he was, re-evaluating Luo Chen. His expression grew complex—doubt, shock, disbelief—all eventually coalescing into an indescribable, profound sense of anticipation.

"What is your name?" Meng Shenji asked, his voice softer than before, yet still devoid of emotion.

Luo Chen looked into his teacher's eyes, reading much from those aged, sharp depths.

Though his teacher hadn't recognized his face, he had guessed seven or eight parts of the truth from that mental pressure. There wasn't another youth in Tiandou City with that level of mental strength.

"Luo Chen," Luo Chen said. Meng Shenji's fingers trembled slightly.

"Luo Chen..." He repeated the name, as if chewing on an aged olive, savoring the taste.

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 is Luo Chen? This old man does not know him."

Luo Chen was stunned.

Meng Shenji turned around, hands behind his back, and began walking up the steps. His voice drifted back lightly: "This old man only had one disciple. He was lost ten years ago and hasn't been found since. If you happen to see him, tell him that this old man has waited ten years for him, and I've stewed pot after pot of his favorite chicken soup."

Luo Chen stood rooted to the spot, watching that hunched back climb the stone steps, a sudden, sharp ache in his nose.

"Teacher," he called out.

Meng Shenji's footsteps faltered, but he didn't stop. He continued forward. Luo Chen stepped up to follow, covering the distance in two strides, and reached out to support the old man's arm from behind.

"Teacher, I'm back."

Meng Shenji stopped. He didn't dare turn around, nor did he dare speak, but Luo Chen felt the old man's arm begin to tremble.

After a few seconds of silence, Meng Shenji spoke, his voice stiff as he fought back tears: "Help this old man up. The steps are steep; if I fall, I'm blaming you!"

Luo Chen chuckled, supporting Meng Shenji as they walked up.

Behind them, the chubby student and the tall student stared in stunned silence, their jaws nearly hitting the ground.

That silver-haired youth was actually Meng Shenji's disciple? The person they had just blocked, insulted, and offended was the Chief's own personal disciple?

The chubby student's face turned even paler than it had been when he was slapped.

"It's over..." He collapsed onto the ground, "It's completely over... that Luo Chen is back! We were in the same grade back then—how did I not recognize this guy!"

Luo An'an poked her head out of the carriage and watched as her brother helped an old man walk away. Tilting her head in thought, she turned to Lin Xiaomei and asked, "Mom, who is that old man? He seems very kind to Brother."

Lin Xiaomei watched her son's retreating figure, her eyes turning slightly red. "That is your brother's master."

"What is a master?"

"It is the person closest to you, aside from your parents."

Luo An'an nodded as if she understood, then suddenly blurted out, "That's not right! Aside from Mom and Dad, the person closest to Brother should be An'an!"

Lin Xiaomei was taken aback by her words and couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, alright, the person closest to Brother is An'an."

Luo Dashan stood to the side, ignoring the two students sprawled on the ground. His gaze remained fixed on his son's back as he supported the old man, following them until they disappeared at the end of the stone steps.

He patted his wife on the shoulder. "Let's go. Our son told us to find an inn to stay at first. Master and apprentice haven't seen each other in ten years, so let's not disturb them for now."