Li City was a small city with a backward economy and beautiful scenery. About 100 kilometers away from the river where Ji Shiting had died, there was an ancient residential area that hadn't been developed into a tourist attraction.
It was almost evening, and the autumn wind was blowing.
With a creak, the wooden door of one of the residences was pushed open, and a tall man walked out.
He was wearing a faded t-shirt and washed-out pants, but the man's noble and distant aura made the obviously shabby clothes look classy, making people wonder if he was starting a new fashion trend.
The man had handsome facial features, but his face was pale. His lips were pursed as if he had just recovered from a serious illness, but his dark eyes were deep.
He looked up at the sunset and thought of something that made a trace of guilt appear in his eyes.
"Mr. Ji." A deep voice sounded behind him.
