Then, Jiang Xinghai lifted the piece of paper and placed it in front of Arhat.
When Arhat saw the two names, he froze. His gaze remained fixed on the paper for a long while before his expression slowly softened.
"What's meant to come will always come."
It seemed he had long expected someone to come looking for him. His voice was laced with a sense of helplessness and sorrow.
He knew the significance behind those two names, and he knew that all of this was inevitable.
Slowly, he raised his head, his murky eyes filled with a complex emotion. "Are you… their descendant?"
"No, you're not. I've met their descendant before. You're not him…"
Arhat shook his head again. "But those eyes of yours… they're so familiar. So much like their only descendant, Jiang Xinghai. Could it be that you…"
"Tell me, where did you take that couple all those years ago?" Jiang Xinghai's voice was deep and heavy, ignoring the old man's question.
Their gazes met in midair.
