"Indeed, very confident."
Xu Yuan did not bother with humility and directly responded:
"Without such cultivation, how could one partake in the affairs of Di'an?"
Xu Yinhè gently stroked the porcelain cup with his fingertip, speaking leisurely:
"In this life, I, as your father, have calculated many things, but I did not foresee Changtian growing at such an astonishing pace."
Xu Yuan raised the porcelain cup before him, took a small sip, and remarked:
"After all, time is running out; many things must be done with bold risks."
"...."
Autumn rain whispers to the wind; the warmth of the fire brews the tea.
Xu Yinhè's expression remained serene, yet deep within his profound black eyes lay a hint of remorse.
Though he had not witnessed them himself, reports from his subordinates had detailed most of the events his third son had endured over the past few years.
