A few days ago, Fang Jun had just disembarked from the Spirit Ship, leaving the ruins.
He held a cane in one hand and a bowl in the other, his whole person standing tall and proud, like a general setting out to war.
But now, his face was bruised and swollen, and his clothes were in tatters.
The man looked utterly dejected, his spirit clearly at its lowest ebb.
Who knew what he had been through in these few days?
Besides sticking straw in his hair, preparing to sell himself into slavery.
There were also numerous clear footprints on his front and back.
It had only been a few days since he had parted with Chen Hai.
Otherwise, with a little more time and his memory of Fang Jun fading, Chen Hai perhaps wouldn't have been able to recognize him.
After thinking it over, Chen Hai took a few steps forward and approached Fang Jun.
If one were to speak truthfully, although there had been a slight unpleasantness between them on the Spirit Ship, Chen Hai hadn't really taken it to heart.
