Fang Geyu had thoroughly realized that this man had always trusted and protected his disciple from the beginning to the end.
Even after confirming that Zhisu's death had a direct connection with the witch Arao, he didn't even continue to press for answers.
Fang Geyu couldn't understand what kind of solid foundation this trust was built upon.
But she felt that whether it was trust or love, one should only give seventy percent, keeping thirty percent in reserve.
If one were to give their whole heart completely, they would inevitably pay a horrific price.
At this moment, the faint traces of blood in his sleeve that even Yun Rong had not noticed were the best proof.
She had clearly seen it.
After he stepped out of the tent and without anyone noticing, he had looked down, covered his lips, and let out a silent cough, and that's when his sleeve turned red.
