"You mean your companions won't save you? You want me to kill you?"
Lin Feng asked.
"We have no companions, only others of our kind. To them, there is no difference between my eye and the Historian's Eye.
My eye is useless to you. It has already been corrupted."
The Indian Monk spoke clearly. Lin Feng pulled hard with both hands, wrenching the iron chain apart.
He opened the study.
A foul, stagnant air drifted out of the room, which had gone unventilated for a long time.
Lin Feng waved it away and saw what was being "enshrined" inside.
There were only two things in the study Li Yuanhao had so painstakingly constructed.
A bronze mirror on a wooden stand.
And an eyeball in front of it.
The eyeball had long since turned to jade and was thoroughly clouded. It rested atop a wooden post.
A piece of golden-yellow silk had been laid beneath it.
The mirror sat on its wooden stand, facing the eyeball. Following its line of sight, Lin Feng noticed that a meditation cushion must once have lain on the floor.
At some point, someone had dragged it away.
Only the marks it had left remained.
There were many words carved into the floor with blades. Li Yuanhao must have written them all.
Lin Feng read them aloud.
"A man's life in this world is like six steeds racing past a crack in a wall. Now that I rule all under heaven, may I indulge everything that pleases my eyes and ears, pursue all the joys my heart desires, and thus live out my allotted years?"
These were words the Second Emperor of Qin had spoken after seeing his father, Qin Shi Huang, Ying Zheng, suddenly die on his southern tour.
He had decided to stop worrying