Fang Qingyu heard the words and slowly turned his head.
His gaze locked onto the figure beside him, separated by an empty seat, the hunched, cane-supporting, seemingly blow-away-by-the-wind gray-clothed elderly man.
His sight penetrated the shadow of the hood.
Immediately landing on the top of the old man's head.
Two red characters entered Fang Qingyu's vision.
Martial Saint.
And... Peak Martial Saint, at that.
A faint sense of oddness stirred in Fang Qingyu's heart.
This gaunt body, murky eyes, stumbling demeanor...
If it weren't for being able to see the title.
There'd be no way to tell this old man was a Martial Saint.
Yet the odd feeling wasn't just because the old man's aura was disguised well.
It was the old man's face...
Which seemed somewhat familiar to Fang Qingyu.
But after searching through his memories...
He quickly confirmed he had never seen this face, full of age spots and marked by time, before.
