Unlike the others who knelt on one knee the first time they saw Jian Ai, Zhi Tong only placed his hand on his chest and bowed respectfully.
However, his voice sounded ancient, and hoarse like an old man.
Coupled with his pale face, Zhi Tong gave off the feeling that he was a dying person with a severe illness.
His appearance was nothing special, but because of the dead-like aura around him, no one could ignore him.
Yu Wuyuan stood in front of the door. When he heard this, his eyes couldn't help but flicker. Then, he said in confusion, "Your voice…"
The voice on the phone in the morning was that of a child. His voice was clear and pleasant, filled with childishness, but now…
Zhi Tong looked at Yu Wuyuan and drawled, "My voice changes with the passage of time every day. It's related to my mental cultivation techniques. I'm sorry for scaring you."
When Yu Wuyuan heard this, he quickly said, "No, I'm just a little surprised. Come in!"
