Song Gudú was dead!
He had died quietly and calmly, just as he had lived.
With carefree ease, he had immortalized himself, leaving behind not even a scrap of flesh or a fragment of bone. Even if the Song descendants had wanted to gather his ashes for burial, it would have been impossible.
He had simply allowed himself to decay alongside the plants and trees, merging into the myriad things of heaven and earth. He could not be found, nor could he be sought.
He had left no final words, as though the vast Song Empire no longer had anything to do with him.
Nor had he pleaded for mercy. He had already run through every possibility of the future in his mind.
Aside from entrusting his most beloved granddaughter to Li Mu Yang and asking him to treat her well, he had left no instructions whatsoever regarding the rest of the Song Clan.
In other words: kill them if you wanted, or spare them if you did not. It was entirely up to you.
How carefree!
And how wise!
He truly was an old man who had seen through life—or perhaps an old dog that had cultivated into a spirit.
Whether you loved him or hated him, whether you revered him or regarded him as an enemy, you had to remember him. You could not ignore him.
Remember—that was how important those two words were.
How many people did one meet in a lifetime? How many things did one experience? And how many people or matters could truly make one think of them endlessly, bring them up time and again?
People were forgetful!
Animals were too!
That was why scholars often said that people were forgetful animals.
Song Gudú was dead!
The person Li Mu Yang hated most and