Li Xizhi rested for a moment—the Rosy Cloud Boat beneath his feet had begun to move. Just outside the door, a person approached; his cultivation level was Late Stage Qi Cultivation, his face pale and beardless, hair white as snow, bearing an aristocratic air. Yet one sleeve hung empty and limp. He halted at Li Xizhi's side.
He cupped his hands and spoke softly:
"I am Fei Yihe. Greetings, young master."
Li Xizhi found the name somewhat familiar; he recalled this man was among the Fei Clan who had once traveled together in bygone years. Thanks to Li Xuanfeng's care these recent years, Fei Yihe's body carried countless scars, but he had survived.
Li Xizhi returned the gesture, answering softly:
"Xizhi greets senior."
His thoughts turned to his younger uncle, Li Yuanqin, who dwelled far away in the Southern Border. That youth ought to be younger than himself, but who could tell what manner of man he'd become now? And so, he asked:
