The man's eyes held an ageless desolation, countless tangled emotions within them as he looked over every blade of grass, every brick and tile of Spine City. His lips had already begun to murmur:
"The Human Path shall not perish... my path shall not be alone. I contend with Heaven for life; my path shall endure forever..."
"Fellow Daoists... I have come to see you..."
A trace of boldness and gentleness finally crossed his stern face, only to gradually return to cold severity. "But the flourishing age of the Human Path today has disappointed you. The backbone of our Human Race seems not to have risen among the younger generation."
"Even my junior brother, so stunningly gifted and detached from the Great Dao, publicly withdrew from the Human Race over this and has even sworn an immortal oath."
"Fellow Daoists, I recall that nothing like this ever happened in our generation."
The man's gaze narrowed slightly, and his grip on the sword in his hand tightened. "We were always the ones protecting the younger generation, letting them grow safely in the Domain without being assassinated or dying young. We never pushed them out to serve as stepping stones."
"No matter what suffering came, we bore it all ourselves. Yet such a legacy seems to remain only among the living beings of our Domain; it was never passed down in the Human Race bloodline of these Three Thousand Great Worlds... How lamentable. How laughable."
As he spoke, he began to laugh. Over the past half month, he had seen through far too much.
What ascension of the Three Thousand Great Worlds, what claim that the Human Race endured humiliation for some grand scheme—in his eyes, it was the greatest joke under Heaven!
There was no need to make a simple matter