Chapter One Hundred and Sixty-Three: Rain of Swords

"I will make sure to help Old Bai become a calligrapher." Xu Lao Ying said stubbornly.

Tang Luo looked into the distance at the calligraphy hanging at the stall, squinting his eyes, "Such excellent handwriting should indeed be seen by more people."

The two men walked up to the stall. Mi Bai had just finished writing a scroll of calligraphy. He lifted his head. His face, as gentle as jade, was full of joy.

"Brother Xu, Brother Tang." Mi Bai put down his brush, sincerely greeted the two men, his voice extremely gentle.

"Eh...eh!" Xu Lao Ying changed his solemn expression immediately, he would always be happy whenever he saw Mi Bai's calligraphy. However, he felt slightly uncomfortable with the title, "Old Bai, we are of the same generation. How can you call me the same as this little kid?"