Jian Mountain, Cold Mountain Academy.
A young man stood atop the peak, his gaze fixed on the white clouds scattered across the cerulean sky.
The young man had grown up. He wore a simple long robe, his posture was ramrod straight, and his chiseled, handsome face was even more striking.
In recent years, whenever he accompanied his young miss to her studies, there were always quite a few girls, their hearts budding with first love, who would sneak glances at him.
Even the noblewomen of the Demon Race who occasionally visited Cold Mountain Academy would, upon seeing the young man, inquire about which family he served.
If Tushan Jing Ci hadn't been unwilling, Xiao Mo would have long since been bought by some noblewoman and kept as some sort of unspeakable plaything.
Xiao Mo slowly closed his eyes, sensing the world around him.
As the young man's mind stirred, a gentle breeze swept by, and the scattered white clouds coalesced into a great white dragon.
