On the grand chair in the center of the hall sat an elderly man with a full head of white hair, dressed in a traditional Tang suit. His spirit was lively, and his face, marked by wrinkles, had weathered the changes of many generations, making him appear even more composed. His eyes were filled with wisdom, as if he could see right through people's hearts, the kind of insight only years in a high position could grant.
"Grandfather, why are you here?" Bo Yimo asked with a frown.
"I'm here for some convalescence. Why, is that not okay?" Old Master Bo replied with a straight face, looking somewhat serious, then suddenly held his head, "Oh dear, why does my head suddenly hurt? It's killing me!"
Faced with such a sly Old Master Bo, the usually calm and composed Bo Yimo was left speechless for once.
Little Nine, following behind, struggled to hold back his laughter.
