Their faces were pale, slick with cold sweat. When they looked at Murphy, their gazes held only the deepest reverence and submission, and they no longer dared to make the slightest move.
"Dad!" Mo Ling called out again, waving her little hand even more vigorously.
However, Murphy didn't respond immediately as he usually would.
And in that moment, Eleanor finally understood what that familiar, yet somehow different, feeling from before had been.
It wasn't that her father was ignoring Mo Ling to prioritize his duties. It was...
Without any warning, a stream of tears slid from her eyes, tracing silent paths down her cheeks.
It was just like the tears Mo Ling had shed when she faced the falling sun—a sorrow that arose from the depths of her bloodline.
"I have to go do something, so I can't stay with you," Murphy's voice finally came. He was speaking to Mo Ling, his tone as gentle as ever, yet it seemed tinged with a faint, otherworldly distance.
