Ghost Daoist's expression was as indifferent as ever.
He looked at Mr. Zhuang, at this junior brother he had not seen for hundreds of years. A trace of vigilance and gravity showed in his pitch-black pupils, but soon after, it turned into a blank daze.
There was nothing here.
No scheme. No killing trap.
And this junior brother of his was a lamp drained of oil, utterly different from the peerless, defiant, unruly prodigy in his memory.
For some reason, anger surged up in Ghost Daoist's heart, and his voice carried a chilling coldness.
"Where is your Heavenly Calculation?"
"Where is your Immortal Heaven Array School?"
"Where are all your cultivation, abilities, methods, and schemes?"
Mr. Zhuang smiled bitterly. "At the end of the road, powerless to turn back the heavens. Why waste the effort..."
A fierce light churned in Ghost Daoist's eyes.
"So you're just waiting here to die?"
Mr. Zhuang fell silent, then gave a soft sigh. "All men are born, and all men die..."
"When alive, one thinks man can triumph over heaven; at death, one finally knows there is no strength to reverse it..."
"I am the same, Senior Brother..."
In Ghost Daoist's pitch-black pupils, hatred flickered, furious at him for not fighting. "Even if you die, you could very well die later. Your Heavenly Calculation couldn't possibly fail to calculate even the slightest thread of life..."
"And if it calculated one, so what?" Mr. Zhuang asked in return.
Ghost Daoist was taken aback.
Mr. Zhuang smiled. His tone revealed a bone-deep exhaustion, and his breath was so faint it was nearly gone. "It would only be a matter of dying early or dying late..."
"The Great Dao is fifty, heaven's evolution is forty-nine..."
"I am the forty-ninth Sect Master. The Heavenly Dao's count is absolute.