Hearing Jimò Yu's answer, the old man showed no sign of delight. Instead, he watched him warily and probed, "If that's so, why didn't you say anything five years ago?"
He was confident in his own strength and didn't take the five of them seriously.
Nor did he believe they could harm him in the slightest.
What worried the old man was the possibility of some scheme lurking behind this.
Jimò Yu said, "I didn't say anything five years ago because I didn't know then. But ever since Shaobai returned from Mountain Sea Sacred Land, his divine power has advanced by leaps and bounds. At the last thanksgiving ritual, he unexpectedly encountered the Heroic Spirits of our forebears and received their instructions. You can see for yourself that this old body of mine is on its last legs, completely spent. I don't know what day I'll close my eyes for good. I've spent my life letting down my Lineage, and I can't go to my grave with regrets. While I can still walk, I want to see my wish fulfilled. Otherwise—how could I face our forebears?"
Jimò Yu spoke with utter sincerity.
The old man couldn't spot anything amiss in his deeply wrinkled, bark-like face, and believed him to some extent.
Even though he scoffed at demons, spirits, and supernatural tales, he had witnessed the Gongxi Clan's miraculous arts with his own eyes back then, and the late Lord had been born into the orthodox Gongxi Clan.
Some mysteries were impossible for him not to believe in.
The old man relaxed his guard, and his tone softened a little. "Sigh, how did your body become so frail?"
After all, Jimò Yu and the late Lord had been twins.
Their talents had been more or less equal.
Under normal circumstances, they