Ten-year-old Mo Hua wore the simple robes of an outer sect disciple, listlessly squatting behind a large rock at the foot of the mountain. He held grass roots in his hand and was burying himself in the ground, drawing intricate patterns.,A chubby little fellow in an Outer Sect robe, adorned with expensive jade ornaments and with small eyes and a plump face, accompanied by two or three attendants, found the ink painter engrossed in his work behind a stone.,The skinny young man was stunned, then suddenly realized, "It seems to make sense!"。