"Dad!"
Ning Rongrong rushed over and threw herself into Ning Fengzhi's arms like a swallow returning to its nest.
Ning Fengzhi caught his daughter. Feeling the level-thirty-seven Soul Power radiating from her, he was startled at first, then broke into a broad grin.
She had only been level twenty-nine when he last saw her. She had risen eight levels in such a short time—progress that was almost unbelievable.
He had already heard from Sword Douluo's letter how quickly she was improving, but seeing it for himself still filled him with pride and joy.
Two figures swept in from the direction of the rear mountain, one sharp as a sword, the other imposing as a mountain.
Sword Douluo Chen Xin and Bone Douluo Gu Rong landed in the square almost simultaneously. Both old men immediately fixed their eyes on Ning Rongrong.
A doting smile spread across Sword Douluo's usually impassive face. Bone Douluo stepped forward and gently rubbed Ning Rongrong's head with his rough hand. "Little Rongrong is back! Level thirty-seven? Not bad, not bad. Much better than your father was at your age."
Ning Rongrong hooked one arm through Sword Grandpa's and tugged at Bone Grandpa's sleeve with the other. She chattered away, leaving both Titled Douluo beaming.
But when they looked at Ning Chen, who was being held aloft by Soul Power, their smiles froze.
One of Ning Chen's legs was broken. His face was deathly pale, and the cold sweat on his forehead had yet to dry.
Beside him stood the Ye Family's Nine-Hearted Begonia heir. A veil hid most of her face, but her pale violet eyes were cool and distant.
Ning Fengzhi took a deep breath. The warmth faded from his face, replaced by a sect master's gravity. "Rongrong, what exactly happened?"
Ning Rongrong stepped out