"Uncle..." Concern flickered in Song Qingxi's eyes.
"It's nothing."
Song Changsheng waved his hand, drew a deep breath, and suppressed the surging grief at the bottom of his heart. He picked up the jade slip that had fallen by his feet, gently wiped away the dirt clinging to it, and ran his fingers over those familiar names one by one, unable to say a word.
Beneath his seemingly calm exterior, his heart was bleeding.
Every person on this list had been a meritorious contributor to the clan.
Take Song Changxuan. He was one of the oldest Foundation Establishment Cultivators in the Song Clan, an elder from Song Changsheng's own generation.
He had taken part in every battle, great and small, that the Song Clan had fought over the years. He had wandered before the Gates of Hell several times, yet this time, Heaven had finally taken him away.
Among cultivators of the same generation, Song Changxuan's spiritual root and Dao foundation had been the best aside from Song Changsheng's. His spiritual root had even been somewhat better than Song Changsheng's. He had been among the earliest batch of Purple Palace Seeds, yet unexpectedly, he had stopped short before the Purple Palace Stage.
Song Qingming had likewise weathered countless battles and fought on the front lines all along, only to fall during an age of peace.
Song Youqing and Song Youdie were equally regrettable losses to Song Changsheng.
Back then, the younger generation of the clan had been hailed as Two Flood Dragons and One Tiger. They had shone brilliantly in the Clan Competition and were later named the clan's Purple Palace Seeds. Song Changsheng himself had thought highly of them, yet only Song Youping had risen above the rest. What a pity. (See Volume Five, Chapter 197.)
He had even