The prayer beads in Hui Ming's hand stilled. His half-lidded eyes opened a sliver, revealing a clear and profound light.
He did not speak, only let out a soft sigh.
"Not necessarily."
Gu Changqing spoke.
His voice was aged and flat, as if he were stating a perfectly ordinary fact.
Shen Mo turned his head, his gaze falling on Gu Changqing.
Hui Ming opened his eyes as well. He looked at Gu Changqing, his clear eyes filled with inquiry.
"There's still one person who hasn't returned."
Gu Changqing's gaze was still fixed on the valley, his cloudy eyes betraying no emotion.
Shen Mo froze for a moment, then seemed to recall something.
His gaze swept over the dozen or so figures in the valley. Indeed, one person was still missing—the young man sent by the Qingxuan Sect.
"Donor Gu, are you speaking of that Fang Han from your sect?"
Hui Ming spoke.
His voice was peaceful, carrying a composure unique to a monk.
"Precisely."
Gu Changqing nodded slightly.
