"Really dead..."
The look in Tang Hao's eyes suddenly grew complicated, but there was even more satisfaction in them—a satisfaction born of avenging a great wrong.
He slowly walked over to the black robe left behind by Ghost Douluo, then bent down and picked up the mask from within it. The mask was icy cold, devoid of any warmth.
Of course. How could someone without a body have any warmth?
"Can I have this?"
Tang Hao held up the mask and asked Zhao Xuan.
Confusion flickered in Zhao Xuan's eyes, but he nodded lightly. "If you want it, take it."
"It's just a pity Chrysanthemum Douluo got away."
"That was my fault. Sorry."
Tang Hao stared blankly at the mask in his hand, saying nothing. No one knew what he was thinking.
"Dad, Zhao Xuan, are you two alright?"
Tang San came sprinting out from the distant woods, anxiety written across his face. After landing, he looked at the two of them with concern.
Seeing that neither of them was hurt, he let out a breath of relief. Then he noticed the mask in Tang Hao's hand. It looked familiar, and after thinking for a moment, his expression suddenly changed.
"This is..."
"Ghost Douluo's mask. He was also... one of the people who killed your mother."
Tang Hao handed the mask to Tang San and let out a long sigh. A trace of bitterness appeared on his resolute face. "If my body hadn't failed me, perhaps you could have killed Chrysanthemum Douluo as well just now."
Zhao Xuan glanced at Tang San, who was staring blankly at the mask in his hands, then shook his head. "Forget it. There will be plenty of chances to kill him later. But Uncle, you should take care of your body. You can't use