A senior brother with an honest face guided Chu Fan down several bluestone paths to Cao Feng's residence.
It was a rather quiet and secluded courtyard.
Before he even drew near, he could already hear shouts coming from within the courtyard.
He saw Cao Feng sitting in a chair, holding a cup of tea, his brows tightly furrowed as he watched a boy of about thirteen or fourteen practice the Twelve Forms Fist.
The boy's movements were somewhat flamboyant; he had only grasped the form, not its essence, and had clearly failed to comprehend the true meaning of the Fist Technique.
Yet, the way his blood and qi surged as he threw his punches made even Chu Fan inwardly surprised.
Two middle-aged men in brocade robes stood to the side, their auras profound. They were also frowning as they watched the boy practice.
The moment Cao Feng caught sight of Chu Fan, his tightly knitted brows relaxed, and a smile appeared on his face.
