When Wang Ping's consciousness descended, Zhang Xinghuai raised his clouded eyes to look at him. Though it was not Wang Ping's true body that had arrived, he still cupped his hands and said, "This disciple greets Martial Uncle."
Wang Ping extended a hand and lightly tapped Zhang Xinghuai's brow. A streak of golden light immediately sank into his forehead, and Zhang Xinghuai's body, which had been at the end of its oil and with its wick burned out, visibly grew younger.
"This is only a temporary measure. If you come cultivate at my dojo, I can guarantee you a thousand years of life. After a thousand years..."
"Thank you for your kindness, Martial Uncle, but there is no meaning left in the rest of my life. Nor do I wish to cling desperately to life any longer. I am too tired."
Zhang Xinghuai lowered his head to inspect his restored body, a relaxed expression appearing on his face. "It has been a long time since I felt this light. It has also been a long time since the world before my eyes was this clear."
"You truly will not reconsider?"
Wang Ping's tone was gentle. The inheritance left behind by his Second Senior Brother now had tens of millions of disciples, yet Wang Ping felt no attachment to any of them. Zhang Xinghuai alone was different, because every time they met in those years, Second Senior Brother would ask him to take care of Zhang Xinghuai.
Zhang Xinghuai still shook his head. Cupping his hands, he said, "What meaning would there be in living another thousand years? I would merely be like the glacier on this mountain—a dead thing, nothing more."
Connected to Wang Ping's Primordial Spirit Consciousness, Yulian said to Wang Ping within the Spirit Sea, "His consciousness is