Over the next few days, Yang Zhengshan visited several old friends in the Capital City.
He made a trip to Three Mountain Valley, where he not only met with An Yuxing, but also saw Zhang Ye and Granny Meng.
Zhang Ye was already close to a hundred and forty years old. His whole person looked incomparably aged, his strands of hair withered white, his face crisscrossed with ravines, and even his eyes had grown much cloudier.
He was tottering on the edge of old age.
Even an Innate Martial Artist could not withstand the ravages of time. In the end, he would still grow old.
In Zhang Ye's separate courtyard, the two of them sat beneath the eaves, drinking tea.
"To what stage have you comprehended your Dao intent?" Zhang Ye asked softly.
Yang Zhengshan shook his head slightly. "Still far from it. I feel as if I've touched a tiny bit of it, but then again, it seems to be there and not there."
He could already wield Thunderbolt Spear with perfect ease, releasing and withdrawing it at will, but he still did not have an accurate understanding of the Dao intent contained within Thunderbolt Spear.
Zhang Ye's expression was somewhat dispirited. "Dao intent... sigh. This old man probably won't have the chance to enter the Dao in this lifetime!"
Yang Zhengshan did not speak, because at this moment, any words of comfort would be pale and powerless.
Zhang Ye was already a hundred and forty years old. At his age, he could leave this mortal world at any moment.
"Chen Shanwu passed away two months ago!" Zhang Ye suddenly said.
Yang Zhengshan was startled. "Chen Shanwu is?"
"That Old Ancestor of the imperial clan, the one who had always been cultivating in seclusion at the Imperial Mausoleum!" Zhang