East Lake Mountain was filled with wonders and dangers. The cliff where Zhao Xing stood was shrouded in clouds and mist, its bottom impossible to see. It had to be at least four or five hundred meters high.
Falling straight down from that height?
Zhao Xing focused his gaze and saw that the man was already a mangled mass of blood and flesh, with several parts even missing.
Yet he was still alive!
Under the observation of Bright Eyes, a thread of life force still remained in him.
"What the hell was that? Scared the crap out of me!" Zong Shichang jumped up from his chair.
"It's a person." Zhao Xing activated the Bright Eyes Art.
"Dead or alive?"
"Not dead yet, but he won't last much longer."
"Not good! I know this man!" Zong Shichang took a closer look, and his expression changed.
Then he immediately ran over.
Zhao Xing surveyed the surroundings, raised Cloudcalling, and only then slowly walked over.
"Brother Wang, h-how did you fall from the mountain?" Zong Shichang ran into the pile of rubble and crouched down.
"Pig... pig..." The man surnamed Wang appeared to be a martial artist. Only half his body remained, yet he had not fully died and even still had the strength to speak.
"Pig? Where is there a pig?" Zong Shichang said. "Brother Wang, make yourself clear."
"Horse... horse..."
"Horse? What are you trying to say?" Zong Shichang was utterly baffled. First pig, then horse—what was he trying to say?
"Brother Wang, if you have any last words, please say them clearly. No, wait—once we pass the Forget Sorrow Stele, I won't remember them anyway."
"You... urgh..." The man surnamed Wang widened his eyes and died with them still open. It was impossible to say whether Zong Shichang had angered