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.,The little chubby boy looked left and right, seeing no figure of the sect instructor, he then mumbled timidly:,“That’s good!” Mok Hua said, opening his eyes and lying.。