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It had been seven years since they'd last met, Qu Zhu had sheathed himself in an ancient scabbard like a sword.
Pei Ye had no idea where he had been all these years, and at first glance, he'd nearly failed to recognize that this was the man.
The air of haughty solitude had almost entirely vanished, and his radical nature had withdrawn into his skin, as if a naturally sharp blade had finally encountered the countless impenetrable things in the world. After seven years of seeking, he still had not found a way out.
Yet within this silence, as immovable as stone, the determination that something must be accomplished seemed to have become even more solidified.
Qu Zhu came to the tomb he had not visited for seven years, as twilight began to close in.