As the young man brushed past, Ji Jingqiu composed himself and walked into the sparring room.
A shabby figure sat cross-legged in the middle of the training field.
His hair was fluffy and disheveled, his face bore an unkempt beard, apparently untrimmed for days, and his white martial arts uniform was stained. The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and forehead were deep, making him look like a middle-aged man overwhelmed by life.
This scene was deeply moving.
Such a man, who looked no different from a vagrant, was actually a martial arts prodigy who had the potential to challenge the Arrogant Sun thirty-one years ago!
The only thing that deeply impressed Ji Jingqiu were Zhuang Butong's eyes, which, despite being in a desperate situation, remained as calm as still water.
"Do you need something?"
Zhuang Butong's voice was deep and slightly hoarse. When he spoke, each word seemed imbued with power, striking directly at the heart.