Who was I?
Where did I come from?
Where was I going?
After leaving the Shaking Light Holy Land, the Ancient War Chariot came to a stop. Wang Teng gazed upon the magnificent rivers and mountains of the Southern Territory, its picturesque scenery reflected in his eyes. They seemed to hold everything, yet his gaze was utterly hollow.
At this moment, Wang Teng had no thoughts in his heart. He did not know what to say either. He was like a mindless walking corpse, or perhaps a statue.
My name was Wang Teng. I was the inheritor of the Desolate Emperor. By the time you saw these words—
I had lost again.
Only after a long while did Wang Teng's eyes regain focus. The scenes from before inevitably replayed in his mind.
A world in one's palm, gnats and flies within a world.
It was so grand, yet so insignificant. It inspired awe, but also despair.
Wang Teng now fully understood why the Shaking Light cultivators' eyes had been filled with reverence when he challenged Qin Sheng, and why the Sacred Physique had urged him to return to the Wang Family first.
Because they had all known that the result had long been decided. He was merely a challenger who overestimated himself.
A Severing Dao challenger taking on a Saint, when the latter's talent and aptitude were even greater. If Wang Teng had not been the person involved, he would have wanted to laugh upon hearing it.
If someone who did such a thing was not a fool, then what was he?
"I happened to become that fool. I fear there will never be another one like me in Beidou," Wang Teng murmured, his expression calm and undisturbed.
"A Saint..."
It was not that he could not understand why Qin