There were seven letters in all.
They were stacked in chronological order. The earliest had been written just after Cinderella left, and the latest was from two months ago.
Tang San began with the earliest letter. His fingers gripped the edge of the paper, unconsciously tightening until several fine creases formed beneath his fingertips.
None of the letters was long.
Cinderella was not one for lengthy speeches, and her letters were as concise as her words.
Each contained only a handful of lines. She mentioned reaching a small city she had never visited before, tasting a delicious pastry, or gaining some new insight into her cultivation.
As for which city she was in, whom she had met, or what she had experienced, she did not mention a word.
Tang San read those seven letters over and over, trying to dig some clue out of words so spare they bordered on miserly.
Nothing.
Cinderella had revealed nothing. She had hidden every danger and hardship behind those few breezy lines of "all is well," showing Tang San only what she wanted him to see.
Tang San set down the final letter. His movement was gentle, and the paper landed on the table almost silently. Yet his fingers lingered, softly stroking the elegant handwriting as though he were touching something beyond precious.
"I'm going to find her."
His voice was quiet, but every word seemed forced through clenched teeth, carrying an unquestionable, ironclad resolve.
Tang Hao frowned. "No."
Tang San raised his head and looked straight at Tang Hao with his deep eyes.
Father and son's gazes collided in the air, one cold as an ice-tempered blade, the other heavy as a hammer bearing immense weight.
"You've only just come out of Slaughter City, and murderous aura pours off you. Wherever you go,