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.,Although he remembered the original owner's master stuffing something into his eyes to try and cure them, he had a gut feeling. He was afraid he would go blind!。