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Wei Jun’s butler walked through a corridor filled with famous paintings in the Wei family manor, located at the south of the city. He stepped on the thick carpet until he arrived in front of a study.
The servant standing in front of the doors opened one side and whispered, “Mr. An, the master has been waiting for you.”
An Feng smoothed out his clothes and gingerly walked into the meticulously decorated study. Then, he bowed to the elderly man reading the newspaper inside. “Master.”
Wei Hang, Wei Jun’s father, was nearly ninety years old, but he had taken good care of himself, so he still had a head full of neatly combed black hair, though there was some graying on his sideburns.
His face showed no signs of sagging, and he had a neatly trimmed beard. He was thin and looked full of life. At most, he appeared to be around fifty years old. The medicine Central City had been providing to him had allowed him to maintain his health.
He showed no emotion on his face, and no one could tell that he had just lost a son. Slowly, he set the newspaper down and looked up. “You’re back. Have you retrieved Xiao Jun’s body?”
An Feng bowed his head. “The Cult Investigation Bureau said that they’re still looking into the cause of his death, so they will need to keep his body...
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