The old man scratched the stubble on his jaw, pondered for a moment, then waved Huangfu Yi over and pointed to the candlestick beside him.
"Alright, alright, don't panic. Once we know what we're dealing with, it becomes simple. Besides, you found him after just two deaths. We've still got four more chances, isn't that quite smooth?"
However, Huangfu Yi just stared at him, huddled in the corner, gripping the iron rod tightly. It was less like holding a sword and more like grasping some spiritual anchor, a lifeline, a spider's thread, as if releasing it would cause his last bit of sanity to slip away into oblivion.
Looking at the boy in this state, the old man sighed, lay down sideways, leaning his head on his hand, watching him,
"Alright then, we can wait. Five years, ten years, a hundred years... well, maybe not a hundred, but eventually until you're willing to die yourself.
