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Seeing the man before him sobbing uncontrollably, shoulders shaking, utterly broken, Lin Xun furrowed his brow.
“Brother Peng…what kind of calamity has befallen you?” He asked softly, crouching down.
The man was none other than Peng Tianxiang! Once a radiant young master of the Immortal Imperial Peng Clan, and a devoted admirer of Dugu Youran.
In those days, he was handsome, spirited and admired wherever he went, with the mighty Peng Clan as his backing. Now, he was gaunt, ragged, and hollow-eyed, so unrecognizable that even Lin Xun failed to identify him at first glance. What kind of torment could possibly have reduced a man of such stature to this pitiful state?
After a long time, Peng Tianxiang finally stopped weeping. His trembling hands clutched Lin Xun’s sleeve as if clinging to his last lifeline. “Brother Lin…please…save my Peng Clan! Please, save us!”
He gripped with all his might, terrified that even the slightest loosened hold would shatter the fragile hope he grasped.
“Calm down first,” Lin Xun said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Then tell me what happened.” His voice carried a quiet yet profound power that reached deep into Peng Tianxiang’s heart, washing away his panic and despair.
Gradually, Peng Tianxiang’s breathing...
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