In response to Li Zimei’s softly spoken words, Xu Xiaohui’s eyes went wide, and she looked closer at Xu Qing. It was little wonder she didn’t recognize him. In her memory, Xu Qing was covered in filth and grime.

But the person who had just stepped into the private dining room was tall and slender, with long black hair that flowed past his shoulders. There was something indescribably elegant about him, and of course, his face was nothing short of entrancingly handsome, like something from a sculpture. Almost pretty. He had dashing, angular eyebrows over cold, profound eyes. Combined with his spirit power fluctuations, he was the type of person no one would dare to underestimate.

“It’s me,” he said with a nod.

A flush crept up Xu Xiaohui’s face, and she quickly took a drink from her raised cup to mask her shock.

Meanwhile, Zhou Qingpeng burst out laughing as he hurried forward to formally receive Xu Qing.

“Junior Brother Xu Qing, please, have a seat.”

Xu Qing clasped hands in greeting, then sat down. Usually, other disciples in the sect seemed cold and brutal to him. But in the presence of these three, he felt warmth.

That said, all of them had clearly changed during their time in the sect. Zhou Qingpeng seemed to radiate happiness, but Xu Qing could see the exhaustion he tried to hide in his eyes. What was more, there was something about him that made it obvious he had gone through some trying times, and had grown up as a result.

Xu Qing couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was different about Xu Xiaohui. But he felt like she had somehow come to resemble the women in the feathered tents back in the scavenger basecamp.

Li Zimei...