The next morning, a thick fog shrouded the land.
Qingxi Village was enveloped in a shroud of gray-white, and the air carried a strange, rotting smell.
Su Yu, carrying a parcel full of rice, grain, oil, and salt, pushed open the creaking gate of the Su Family's Old Mansion.
In the courtyard, a somewhat frail figure was moving through the morning mist.
Su Can was bare-chested, sweat trickling down his spine. His remaining left hand was clenched into a fist, and as he threw a straight punch, it produced a faint whistle.
However, as he turned, the empty sleeve on his right shoulder flapped powerlessly in the cold wind, a rather desolate sight.
"Third Brother," Su Yu called out softly.
Su Can froze. He whipped his head around, a flash of panic in his eyes that quickly turned into delighted surprise. "Second Brother! What are you doing back?"
Su Yu walked over and squeezed his intact left arm. The muscle was firm; his Qi and Blood hadn't decayed too much.
