In the quaint room, Nian sat up from his bed, muttering to himself. He was about fifteen years old, with a handsome face, but his clear eyes were covered with bandages, as if they were injured.,Lin Ling's face wore a wry smile, his soul took root within this vessel. He soon realized the original owner had been in a struggle with someone, accidentally killed in the fray. Most importantly, the original owner left him a pair of wounded eyes.,After coming and going, all the senior masters looked at his master with displeasure, even wanting to take his master's position as a senior master.。