"Father"—Lu Qingming's body shot into the air and caught Lu Xingkong's falling body in his arms.
Looking at Lu Xingkong's deathly pale face and the blood at the corner of his mouth, he asked urgently, "Father, how are you?"
"I'm fine." Lu Xingkong's voice was hoarse. His blood and qi roiled within him, leaving his heart in turmoil. Looking at the silver dragon in the sky that had just been snapped in half by a giant golden hand, he said, "Don't worry."
"Father, come down. Let me fight this battle in your place." Lu Qingming's eyes reddened, and his voice was filled with grief and fury.
They had long expected this trial to be extremely difficult to survive.
But no one had imagined it would be this arduous—nearly enough to wipe out the Lu family entirely, to catch them all in one net.
Li Mu Yang had been gravely wounded by them, his body drained of strength and unable to rise. Even now, they were still falsely accusing him of being a member of the dragon race.
Now it was his own father's turn. Could it be that they intended to kill his father as well?
Li Mu Yang could not die. Li Mu Yang was the hope of the Lu family.
His father could not die either. His father was the backbone of the Lu family.
Therefore, he would die.
If the Lu family was ultimately destined to leave one life behind on Mount Lan, Lu Qingming hoped it would be his.
Only then would he be willing to accept this worst and best possible outcome.
"No." Lu Xingkong's voice was deep, like a tiger's roar. "Cultivation is like climbing a mountain. The closer you get to the summit, the harder each step becomes. The slightest difference in realm