He studied him for a moment, his gaze sweeping from Lu Changfeng's face to his hands, then back again.
A young man.
Very young.
That face looked barely past twenty, with refined features, a complexion like polished jade, and a touch of scholarly grace. But those eyes-those eyes were not what a twenty-year-old should have possessed. His gaze was bright and deep, steady and assured, like a pool of deep water, its surface unruffled while hidden currents surged beneath.
This was not feigned composure, but the genuine confidence that came only after weathering great winds and waves.
Something stirred faintly in Lu Huanzhang's heart.
He had lived in Dragon-Slaying City for decades and seen all kinds of people. Those with genuine ability and those without-he could tell them apart at a glance.
This young man did not look like a fraud.
"Young sir..." Lu Huanzhang's voice was still hoarse, but clearer than before. "Where are you from? Who is your master?"
Lu Changfeng walked up to the bed and stood with his hands behind his back, calmly meeting Lu Huanzhang's gaze.
"I hail from Qingzhou in the Central Lands. My surname is Yan, my given name Zhaoming. My master is Xuanyangzi."
Master, may your spirit in heaven forgive me. I'm "Yan Zhaoming" for now. Once the time is right, I'll reveal my true identity and restore the honor of your name. For now, let Xuanyangzi reap a little undeserved credit.
Lu Huanzhang fell silent for a moment, then slowly extended his hand, resting his twig-thin wrist on the edge of the bed.
"Please."
Lu Changfeng dispensed with formalities, strode forward, and placed three fingers on Lu Huanzhang's pulse.
The room instantly fell silent. Everyone held their breath, their eyes fixed on Lu Changfeng's fingers and face, afraid of missing even