“Che’er, quickly, take a seat…”

Mu Yurou gently pushed Yun Che into a wooden chair. Her pretty face looked as though a shower of rain had fallen upon it, and her hands still continued to gently tremble. She looked at her son, who was right in front of her, and her gaze clung to him; it did not waver for even a single moment.

In his hand, he held the Mirror of Samsara. On his arm, the imprint of the Profound Handle still faintly glimmered, and his face closely resembled ...