Heaven Devouring Dao, Who Are You?

Qin Yang looked over the information, still holding the original distress letter in his hand, feeling rather puzzled.

That bastard Zhang Zhengyi loved courting death, sure, but he had always gone off to court death on his own. At worst, he would succeed and truly die, then revive after a while, slink back in shame, find somewhere safe, and behave himself for a time.

He had never once sent a distress letter in the middle of one of his own death-seeking escapades, saying something like, "senior brother Qin, save me."

Years ago, when someone had used his identity, it had merely delivered a message: "senior brother Qin, hurry up and kill me."

This was truly the first time he had ever called for help and asked someone else to save him.

Qin Yang had always let him be because of precisely that. The man loved courting death—that was his own hobby. As long as he did not trouble anyone else, he could do whatever he pleased.

He turned the letter over and over, reading it several times, then picked it up once more to confirm there was nothing wrong with it. Quite a few of the coded phrases were altered versions known only to the two martial brothers. No outsider could possibly know them, much less use them in such bizarre ways.

Yet no matter how he looked at it, it was indeed a distress letter.

Feeling that something was off, Qin Yang thought for a moment before taking out a Crystal Box. Inside lay one of Zhang Zhengyi's heads. It looked as though it had just been chopped off, its eyes tightly shut and devoid of life.

This was the head Qin Yang had been keeping for Zhang Zhengyi, one of Zhang Zhengyi's fallback measures.

Zhang Zhengyi's remaining lifespan