On the sixth day, Zuo Song walked into the Side Hall.
"Little guy, it's time to come out of seclusion!"
Zuo Song's voice was mystical, like the tolling of an evening drum or a morning bell—profound and thought-provoking. Yet, it wasn't overbearing. Instead, it was as gentle as a spring breeze and soft rain, carrying wisps of the Dao's rhythm that awakened the mind.
The vast, ocean-like aura around Qin Feng ebbed and flowed before gradually dissipating.
Qin Feng opened his eyes and looked at the white-browed old man clad in the black robe of a Mystic Master.
"Elder Zuo, it looks like you have good news!"
"Bad news. Terrible news!" Zuo Song kept a straight face, his expression grim, but the fleeting smile in his eyes betrayed him.
Qin Feng rose to his feet and stretched, loosening the Qi and Blood that had stagnated from sitting for so long. "Did Fan Qingshan's Array fail?"
Zuo Song gave the black-robed youth a surprised glance. "You don't seem surprised or puzzled at all?"
