When the old steward heard this, the light in his eyes dimmed. He sighed helplessly and said no more.
A heavy silence fell over the room again, broken only by the mournful whimpering of the wind outside.
Hall Master Liu leaned back in his chair. The wound on his chest throbbed with a dull ache, but the pain in his heart was far worse.
He closed his eyes, his mind filled with images of his son. 'If Maolin really isn't coming back...' He suddenly clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. A vicious glint flashed in his eyes. 'Then for the rest of my life, I'll do nothing but hunt down and slaughter every last one of the Flying Horse Thieves, even if it costs me this old body of mine. I will avenge my son!'
But the thought had barely formed before it was drowned by a wave of crushing despair.
'If my son is gone, what's the point of killing all the Flying Horse Thieves?'
Just then, a sudden clamor erupted from downstairs. Faintly, they could hear someone shouting.
