Master Head of the Dragon Soul novel Chapter 565

Chu Feng glared at it and sneered, "I'm afraid you've already forgotten that we are a 'humble' mother and son."

Meanwhile, at Lord Chu's Castle in Yenching...

The vast mansion, with its nine entrances and nine exits, resembled a royal palace, exuding luxury, and grandeur from every brick, every plant, and every tree.

Within the estate, there was a secluded and quaint courtyard, consisting of a few tile-roofed houses and an ancient well. Its ambiance stood in stark contrast to the opulence of the palace.

At the center of the courtyard stood a peach tree with thick branches, bearing the marks of age. Despite the cold winter, the tree was meticulously protected, a testament to years of careful nurturing.

A tall man, dressed in a purple-gold dragon robe, was diligently tending to the tree—watering, weeding, and loosening the soil with practiced movements.

In Donghua, there were only two individuals worthy of wearing the Dragon Robe.

One was the heir of the former Emperor of the capital, Crown Prince Hua.

The other was the King who stood shoulder to shoulder with him in Yenching—Chu Tianxiong!

The man, nearing the age of fifty, had temples tinged with white, yet he exuded an air of timeless grace. Instead of appearing aged, he carried the aristocratic aura of a renowned lineage, every action emanating an imposing presence.

His weathered face, marked by the ravages of time, was stern and majestic. His sword-like eyebrows, bright eyes, and even the scars on his face and silver hair emitted an aura of ferocity.

His broad shoulders conveyed a sense of security, as if he could single-handedly bear the weight of the heavens, should the sky come crashing down.

"Woosh!"

At that moment, an elegant elderly man in gray attire entered the yard, carrying fifty or sixty documents that needed attention.

He stood silently, patiently waiting for the man, his mind filled with complex thoughts.

Every day, at this very hour, the man would come to the yard to water the peach tree and tend to the soil.

For half an hour, nothing significant could disturb him.

Of course, in the past seventeen years, he could only have half an hour for himself.

"Lord Chu!"

As the time drew near, the old man in gray clothing stepped forward and presented towels and hot tea.

The man accepted the towel and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He gently patted the peach tree in front of him and asked, "Mr. Weng, how tall has this tree grown? How many years has it been?"

The old man's eyes reflected a complex mix of emotions. "It has been seventeen years, Lord Chu."

"Seventeen years," the man repeated.