What an absurd world this was.
What an absurd journey through the Southern Regions!
Shangguan of the Primordial Three Swordsmen, Long Boji, the Southern Dipper Hall's foremost true disciple, had now become a corpse.
Coldly wrapped in a straw mat, he would have no more stories to tell. And all of Zhongshan Weisun's efforts along this road had been kneaded into one shallow obituary—
Long Boji was dead.
"How did he die?" The Celestial Companion Hall true disciple who had brought out the body seemed surprised by the question. Then he answered, "He killed himself. He couldn't bear the pressure anymore and felt he had failed the sect..."
"Dozens of sword wounds on his body, five fatal injuries, more than thirty kinds of Sword Qi!" Zhongshan Weisun pointed at Long Boji's corpse, his voice trembling. "And you say he killed himself?"
The Celestial Companion Hall true disciple looked at this heir of the Zhongshan Clan. "That's simply how things are. If you don't believe me, there's nothing I can do."
He held out the corpse in his hands. "Senior Brother Long's body—do you want it or not?"
Long Boji was already dead.
What kind of man had he been? What had he lived through? What brilliance had he possessed?
None of it mattered anymore.
He was merely a name that might not even remain on paper.
And whether he had killed himself or not—did that still matter?
Wanted the truth? Who had time to indulge you?
Wanted revenge for Long Boji? The Southern Dipper Hall was about to be destroyed.
The man who had carried this corpse out could not even be bothered to invent a better excuse.
Zhongshan Weisun stood frozen in place, lips pressed tightly together without a sound. The bloodshot veins in his eyes seemed to burn