Two days later.
Another snowfall.
In the courtyard, the whole family was ready, luggage in hand, about to leave for the train station.
"That old man, honestly. If he doesn't want to go, fine, but why hide from us?"
After greeting several neighborhood women, Zhao Lanxiang made another round of the Junk King's courtyard. Finding no sign of him, she came back and couldn't help complaining.
Standing beside her, Father Lian wrapped her scarf around her and reassured her. "We'll be back in a little over two weeks. Besides, with his cooking skills, that old man won't go hungry anywhere. Don't worry."
Seeing that it was nearly time, Zhao Lanxiang could only sigh. "All right. I left a key in his room. He certainly won't freeze or starve."
As the two elders talked, Lian Youming stood silently beside them.
Holding his son Little Stone in his arms and Yan Lingyun's hand in his, he followed his parents out of the courtyard. Only when they were about to leave the lane did he look back. His gaze pierced the wind, frost, and flying snow, and those inscrutable eyes seemed to blaze with two unprecedentedly brilliant lights.
Never before had Lian Youming felt such an invincible, overpowering resolve to reach the pinnacle of the Martial Way.
Only supreme strength could break through everything and make all paths bow before a single punch.
Yan Lingyun seemed to sense his resolve as well. She said softly, "Whatever happens, do what you want to do."
Lian Youming smiled, the brilliance in his eyes fading once more.
The Junk King was right. This time, both of them, grandfather and grandson, had to face the formidable enemies blocking their paths.
The old man wanted to extend his path and enter the realm of Mystic Connection.
And he