Watching Yang Wucheng's retreating back, Lin Kuang felt an indescribable emotion well up in his heart.
Those words had truly touched his soul. An image surfaced in his mind: a figure, somewhat stooped with age, yet capable of standing ramrod straight at any moment.
When he was young, that man had been a towering mountain for Lin Kuang to look up to. For a time, that same figure was the one existence he longed to surpass.
One could say that without that man, there would be no Lin Kuang today!
After all, that person was his grandfather, the patriarch of the Lin Family. He was the elder Lin Kuang respected most and the man who had always been kindest to him. As he dwelled on this, his eyes began to moisten. The stooped figure seemed to materialize before him, his gaze filled with the same doting affection as always.
"Grandfather," Lin Kuang murmured, his eyes moist.
But in the next moment, the illusion shattered, and a complex look returned to his eyes.
