Lu Jun bent down and picked up the staff embedded at an angle in the scorched earth.
The staff was slightly heavy, cool to the touch. Dim patterns of faith shimmered across its surface, while several fine cracks wound from its tip to its middle like scars that would never heal.
His fingertips brushed over the staff, sensing the lingering whispers within it, whispers belonging to the Douluo Star Plane.
They were the accumulated faith of countless living beings over ten thousand years, as well as the imprints of will left behind by generations of Xu Family staff-bearers.
He turned and held the staff out to Xu Tiandi.
"Take it."
His voice was calm, devoid of emotion.
"I have no use for this thing. Keep it for yourself."
Xu Tiandi raised his eyes, his gaze lingering briefly between the staff and Lu Jun's face.
Something seemed to flicker faintly in those weary golden eyes.
It was like surprise, yet also like a deeper self-mockery.
He silently extended his hand. His fingertips paused almost imperceptibly when they touched the staff, then he gripped it firmly and returned it to his side.
The tip of the staff tapped lightly against the ground with a dull knock.
His posture remained straight, but the sharpness and arrogance that had once looked down upon the world seemed to have been drained away by more than half.
His shoulders sagged slightly, his gaze drifting toward the distant skyline warped by the aftermath of the laws. A faint, almost despondent air of twilight enveloped him.
Seeing him like this, Lu Jun's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Was this still the Federation Speaker who had commanded the entire Federation and dared to oppose the Tang Sect and Shrek Academy?
The formidable figure who ruled the military with an iron