The night was deep and still.
In the bedroom, Yan Lingyun was sound asleep, and the baby had fallen asleep too.
The fan beside them whirred away.
Lian Youming rose lightly, almost without a sound, like a feather drifting from the bedside to the center of the room.
He pressed two fingers together and jabbed at the air.
A flying mosquito instantly became a speck of blood that spattered onto the floor.
Outside the window, the stars shone brilliantly.
Lian Youming worked both hands at once, bending the left and extending the right, shifting from fists to palms to fingers. His inner strength gathered at a single point. His movements were clearly lightning-fast, yet they made not the slightest sound.
Only after the buzzing of mosquitoes in the room had completely vanished did he slowly settle his palms, pushing and kneading with them before standing still.
After another glance at his sleeping wife and child on the bed, Lian Youming slipped forward, pushed the door open, and squeezed through the gap.
His figure flitted through light and shadow, his upper body bare. He left the house, crossed out of the courtyard, and finally reached the Junk King's little shack. Compared with his former burly, imposing build, he was now visibly a good deal thinner.
After all, the battle on Mount Lu had severely depleted his vital essence and left him gravely injured, much like suffering a serious illness.
But he still looked tall and leanly powerful compared with ordinary people, and his flesh had grown increasingly compact.
After two months, Lian Youming had fully recovered from the injuries he had suffered in the battle on Mount Lu.
Much of that was thanks to Yan Lingyun's acupuncture.
Without any further thought, the moment he entered the room, he puffed out his