He had come too late.
Tu Shan Jun was neither a god nor an immortal.
Since parting with his disciple's grandson, he had traveled far and wide, fulfilling many people's wishes and collecting many rewards.
He could not possibly happen to appear here at just the right moment.
By the time he arrived, Yang Wu, who had been running for three years, had finally reached the mountaintop.
Yang Wu had thought he was sprinting with all his might toward that mountain, never realizing that more than three years had already passed.
Why could this great red-haired, horned ghost not have arrived at precisely the right time?
Why could he not have saved him before he died?
Why could he not have received the great ghost's help before his family was taken away?
Yang Wu did not know.
Fate was simply this cruel.
He could not blame Tu Shan Jun.
The people he needed to blame had already been killed by his own hand. The mastermind was dead, and so were his family. Yang Wu fell painfully to one knee, howling at the injustice of this world and blaming himself for arriving too late.
But back then, he had only been a young boy. How could he possibly have turned the tide of heaven and earth?
"Perhaps she is still alive."
A cool, ethereal voice sounded beside his ear.
Yang Wu abruptly raised his head.
"After spending such tremendous effort, the organization will not let her die so easily."
"They have always known how to do business."
Yang Wu did not understand the familiarity and calmness in the tall cultivator's tone. It was as though he fully understood the organization's methods and knew exactly whether they would kill people.
Yang Wu chose to believe him. Other than believing him, he had