Qing Ling'er was stunned at first, and a warm current rushed up to his heart. He stared at Wu Shifu dead. His long hair was scattered on his face and had been sticked together by blood stains. However, Qing Ling'er's eyes were never forgotten.

"Dad?" Qing Ling-er cried uncertainly. When Zhang's family was murdered, Qinglinger was six years old. He still had some impressions about his father, and there were pictures of his father in the rural home. When Qinglinger remembered, he would talk to his father with pictures in his heart, so Qinglinger certainly would not admit mistakes.

Qinglinger's slender jade hand covered his mouth to minimize his crying,...