After Yi Lin and Jian Nanchun flew away on their swords.
Uncle Chen Bei sighed as he watched the two departing figures, deeply moved.
He was sighing about how time flows like water, leaving no traces behind.
But Uncle didn't sigh for too long.
Sixty years, he had witnessed too many things in the Errand Work Class.
Whether it was talented young men or mediocre juniors.
Too many, too many, too many.
Uncle Chen Bei hummed a little tune, effortlessly picked up the yoke left by Yi Lin, and prepared to go up the mountain.
At this point, as the morning sunlight scattered, none of the remaining errand-running disciples realized another disciple had left the Errand Work Class. Ignorantly oblivious, they washed, ate, and prepared for the day's work.
At this moment.
Suddenly,
all nature fell silent.
Except for Uncle Chen Bei, all errand-running disciples eerily stopped their actions.
They were motionless, their eyes, breathing, heartbeats, all eerily still, like statues.
