Li Fuyuan's feelings were somewhat complicated. He understood what the mask meant. He did not want to admit that he was that person, yet reason told him that his being able to enter under his teacher's tutelage was likely related to this.
After letting his thoughts drift for a while, he finally came back to himself and tentatively asked, "My senior brother... where did he go afterward? How did it end for him?"
The mask was unwilling to say any more. "You'd best not know that."
Li Fuyuan said, "Why?"
The mask fell silent again.
Li Fuyuan had already felt exceedingly vexed after seeing all this. Seeing that it would not cooperate, anger flared in his heart. He snatched up the mask and made as if to strike it. "If you're going to talk, say it clearly. You always reveal half and hide half. I really want to pound you."
The mask grew somewhat panicked. "Don't pound me, don't pound me. I'll tell you."
It hastily said, "You've read those letters too. It was you—cough, your senior brother—who accepted an invitation to battle and fought someone in a contest of Dao techniques. In the end, he was no match for that opponent and perished. What you saw were the last letters your senior brother left behind before his death."
Then it muttered softly, "Sigh, in your previous life, you were calm and resourceful, with schemes in your breast. When were you ever this impetuous, ready to fight at the slightest disagreement?"
Li Fuyuan ignored its complaints and merely sat there in a daze. He had vaguely known of this senior brother, but his two martial nephews had both been unwilling to speak of him. He had never expected this outcome. In truth, he should have thought of it long ago.