Han Yiren considered himself not weak in Martial Arts.
He could, relying on his own strength, support an entire Small Cold Valley, which was evident enough.
But how did the person before him enter his room, and when did they sit here, he had no inkling at all.
If he hadn't looked up at that chair, he might not have realized, even when lying down, that there was someone more silently and invisibly.
A master!
An ultimate master!
In a flash, Han Yiren did not call for help or make a move.
Instead, he cautiously looked at the person in front of him, cupped his fists and said:
"May I ask who you are? Visiting late at night, what is your purpose?"
Chu Qing tapped a finger on the table, then threw out a letter with a flick of his hand.
Han Yiren instantly reached out to catch it, just a glance made his pupils contract:
"Where is Ting'Er?"
"Dead."
Chu Qing's voice carried an indescribable chill:
"The matters of Small Cold Valley must not leak out."
