The bloody slaughter, the earth-shattering battle, like a demon in his heart, locked him into his inner self, completely obliterating his former ambitions and pride, leaving only fear behind.
He was wrong, he was truly wrong.
From the beginning, he should not have listened to Chen Xiuyuan, and become involved in this conflict.
There's always someone better, regardless of whether one is the Prince of the Marquis of Shenwu or not.
Or even as a disciple of the Imperial Spirit Palace, so what?
In front of that man, they all turn to flighty ashes, never to exist again.
Wu Antong walked aimlessly, under the moonlit night with sparse stars, upon the vastness of the world; he suddenly felt redundant, powerless as though garbage.
He didn't know how much time had passed, in the evening, a broad-bodied man approached, whipping up a strong wind, appearing before him.