When Xu Changqing heard those words, a faint suspicion rose in his heart!
Before he could voice it, the third sigh followed close on the heels of the second.
This sigh was longer than the first two, its voice turning intermittent, as though, tangled between utter exhaustion and helplessness, it was forcing out its final words: "Life is like morning dew; death, like autumn leaves. Return to dust, again and again!"
Three sighs, three sentences.
Each one longer than the last.
Each one heavier than the last.
Each one more like a dying monologue than the last.
After the final note of the male voice faded away, the passage returned to its humming.
And the sighs never sounded again.
As if speaking those three sentences had already drained the last of "his" strength.
Luo Qinghan was the first to break the silence. She analyzed, "Three sentences, three layers of meaning.
"The first speaks of the Heavenly Dao's indifference.
"It stands high above all, favoring no living being and treating all things under heaven as straw dogs.
"The second speaks of cultivators like us.
"Seeking immortality, severing karma, abandoning every tie in Mortal Dust.
"The third speaks of life.
"Brief as morning dew, returning to dust like autumn leaves, then repeating in an endless cycle."
Jin Buhuan narrowed his eyes slightly. "Luo Siming broke down the three sentences by their content, but I think we can look at them from another angle.
"The person speaking had no anger in his tone from beginning to end. No curses, not even regret—only a calmness that was almost cruel.
"In the first sentence, he said he treated all things as straw dogs.
"Anyone still struggling against fate would have had at least some resentment or fury in their voice. But he did not. He