As soon as I opened the bamboo gate of the hanging building, I saw a well-proportioned young man in the small room, buried his head in a parchment scroll. He dipped a feather pen into the ink by his side and quickly recorded something.,Lyon approached, even though he had deliberately restrained the force of his steps, the brass boots still made a loud thudding sound with every contact against the wooden floor.,Lyon smiled and nodded, offering no comment. Instead, he looked around the room.。