The newcomer was an old man standing before Qin An, his figure like a gnarled ancient pine wrapped in an indigo long robe, still revealing the powerful contours of his youth.
His feet were in short shoes, with bulging blue veins at the ankles like old tree roots entwined.
A scar on his left cheek glowed dark purple under the sunlight, and his tiger eyes under sword-like brows burned like torches.
The whites of his eyes were covered with Yang Qi, like a red-hot iron net, intimidating to behold.
Noticing Qin An's intent to draw his sword, the old man stroked his beard and sighed.
"The younger generation can indeed be formidable."
Qin An squinted and remained silent.
The old man asked, "Is the duty of a mountain patrol officer very arduous?"
Qin An replied indifferently, "It's average."
The old man nodded, "You'd best leave, or there might be a life-threatening danger."
Qin An shook his head, "The mission has been accepted, how can one abandon it halfway?"
