C871 The Inheritor of the Spirit God

Although Lee Yixuan was weak, there was a trace of nostalgia in his eyes. He was reminiscing about what happened when he was young, but it was too small for him to remember.

"Senior. My father... How is he?"

Zhan Xingye was still wearing the cold mask. His black hair was swaying slightly in the wind. He looked like a stone statue, but through the mask