The night was about to fall.
The setting sun in the evening seemed to be filled with death as it sprinkled down on the dense forest. Caw Caw Caw... The crows' cry was like a series of death knells, sometimes far and sometimes near.
He Zhao's spiritual energy was already beginning to deplete. Blood started to burst out from his wound once again.
If this continued, his spiritual energy and cultivation would completely dissipate.
"No... I still want revenge! Jiang Yun and Qin Mingzhu! If it weren't for you two, I wouldn't have fallen to this state today!"
He Zhao kept coughing. Blood trickled down the corners of his mouth. His expression gradually distorted. The sickness of revenge had begun to occupy his entire heart.
He supported himself against the crooked tree. Through his palm, he could feel the roughness of age on the crooked tree.
Why...
God seemed to be against him from the beginning to the end...