Han Zheng smiled and said, "Don't worry, let's go together."
Luo Chen looked at him with surprise. Wasn't it just now that he said he couldn't bear to see others heartbroken?
...
Green hills surrounded them, with incense burning continuously.
In a cemetery, a young man knelt on the ground.
His face was expressionless, no tears visible.
But the sorrow in his eyes was irrepressible.
"Father, your son has returned too late."
"You toiled to raise me, you sent me thousands of miles to join the Immortal Sect, yet I didn't even see your face one last time..."
"It is Yuan Jiao who has been unfilial!"
He left home at twelve, and only returned at the age of thirty-eight.
The once young boy was now a Foundation Establishment True Cultivator.
But the joy of family was forever lost, with heaven and man eternally separated.
So much pride and so many tales of Immortal Cultivation, with no one to tell, leaving only a trace of regret lingering in his heart.