Perhaps because the memory was so distant, Xu Taiping kept feeling that the words in his mind not only differed somewhat from his grandfather's dying words, but also carried a deeper unwillingness to accept his lot.
There was even a trace of resentment in them.
Resentment at the injustice of the Heavenly Dao.
Resentment at his mortal bones.
But soon, Xu Taiping remembered.
These must have been words his grandfather had spoken at his bedside the day before he died, while Xu Taiping was half asleep.
So... Grandfather... had passed away with such deep unwillingness and resentment...
With his divine sense still trapped deep within that black vortex, unable to free itself, Xu Taiping used almost every last bit of his "strength" just to form that thought in his mind.
Yet the instant that thought arose, he "saw" a speck of light suddenly appear at the center of the black vortex.
That tiny, firefly-like light seemed like a thread, tightly "catching hold" of Xu Taiping's mind and pulling it back up little by little.
But more than his mind being dragged back out of the vortex, what drew Xu Taiping's attention now were the scenes of the past flashing ceaselessly through his mind.
For some reason, the childhood scenes that had been so hazy in his memory became incomparably clear at this moment.
Even his grandfather's heavy breathing as he carried him up the mountain to cut firewood sounded as though it were right beside his ear.
Let alone his grandfather's expressions and every movement.
And it was these vivid scenes that once again let Xu Taiping see and feel a side of his grandfather's words and gaze that was utterly at odds with his usual cheerfulness and open-mindedness.
For instance, when the eccentric Uncle Zhao at the village entrance