The Patriarch of the Qian Family spoke at length.
Mo Hua listened in shock. He found some sense in the words, but also felt that something was not quite right, and for a moment, he was somewhat confused.
Suddenly, he found something else strange.
Those with deep schemes speak little.
This Patriarch of the Qian Family should not be a talkative person, so why would he keep talking to himself for so long?
Moreover, until now, it had been only the Patriarch himself who incessantly spoke; that Qian Hong seemed not to have said a word, had he?
How odd...
Mo Hua peeked out his little head again, stealing a glance. This time he looked longer and saw more clearly, but involuntarily, his pupils shocked.
That Qian Hong, with his eyes closed, had a deathly pale face.
His chest was marked with blood-red Formation Patterns, and it seemed as if all his blood was converging toward his heart through those patterns.
But his blood was black, decayed.