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Island at the heart of the lake.
Li Zhouluo was dressed in a black robe as he wrote at his desk beneath the dim glow of lanterns. Dili Guang stood silently below the steps, saying nothing.
An old man was walking up the steps, his back straight, features upright, cheeks sunken and face deeply aged. His expression was solemn, and the dark sword hanging at his waist gave off an air that inspired fear.
Li Zhouluo raised his brows slightly in surprise. When he saw the old man arrive before the hall, he quickly put down his brush, rose, and said quietly, "Elder Donghe has come… why not send word in advance… it's too much to trouble the elder for such a trip."
Chen Donghe had rapidly grown thin in recent years, becoming ever more silent and increasingly unlike his old self. His skin clung to his bones. Standing in the hall, after finishing his salute, he said in a hoarse voice, "I have grown old, old-fashioned, and dare not speak much in the hall. I only came to pay my respects to the family...
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