High above, crimson clouds billowed across the sky.
The True Phoenix spread its cloud-draping wings. Every feather flowed with a crystal-clear sheen, refracting dreamlike colors beneath the sunlight.
It hovered in the lofty heavens above Futu City, its clear phoenix eyes calmly surveying the majestic ancient city below.
On the True Phoenix's broad, level back, a figure stood in silence.
Mu Feng watched everything unfold. Fierce winds howled down from the nine heavens, yet under the True Phoenix's protection, he remained utterly unaffected!
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze passing over the True Phoenix's magnificent neck to the scene ahead, where the True Dragon coiled amid a sea of clouds and a black-clothed figure stood in the void...
Mu Feng's chest rose and fell, his breathing growing heavier. A scorching torrent surged through every limb and bone, almost bursting from his chest!
That was his son, Mu Chen!
How many years had it been?
When Qing Yanjing left, Mu Chen had still been a little child too young to remember anything. From then on, Mu Feng had lived day and night beneath the weight of anguish and bitter resentment.
He hated his own weakness, his inability to protect his wife. More than that, he feared his son asking about his mother. He was an unworthy husband, an unworthy father!
He had thought he might never see his wife again in this lifetime, much less stand like this above the city of a Primordial God Clan!
At that moment, he suddenly recalled that storm-lashed night so many years ago.
Before leaving, Qing Yanjing had held the still-swaddled Mu Chen tightly, tears spilling like pearls from a broken string.
She had kissed her son's tender cheeks over and over, then looked up at Mu Feng, her eyes filled with hope.
"Feng,