Xie Xinzhi walked numbly toward the Imperial City. Every meridian in his body had snapped, his internal organs were churned together, and blood seeped from his seven orifices. He was a pitiful sight.
The Haoran Righteous Qi within him had vanished without a trace. He had completely lost his connection to it.
How could he not know that Ling Feng had utterly bewitched him? Thinking about it now, how could a cultivator who stood so high above others possibly cooperate with a mortal as an equal?
Back then, he had believed so wholeheartedly that as long as he did what Ling Feng said, he could leave this Mortal World and venture into a vaster world.
Looking back now, he found it laughable. He had taken far too much for granted, never once doubting Ling Feng's intentions.
Perhaps Ling Feng had used some secret art to plant suggestions in his mind and make him believe him?
After all, he was a cultivator. It was only natural that he possessed means mortals could not understand.
The pain in his body made Xie Xinzhi's steps increasingly unsteady.
But he paid it no heed, relying on sheer, stubborn will to make his way along the muddy road toward the Great Zhou Capital.
An utter failure, he now wanted only to return to the place where his dreams had first begun.
To stand at the highest point in the Capital and take a look, to see whether he could glimpse his former self.
All along the way, cries of suffering filled the land.
The sudden flood had instantly turned the once peaceful, prosperous Capital into a purgatory. Dead commoners lay everywhere.
Thinking of how he, too, had played a part in causing all this, Xie Xinzhi suddenly felt guilty.
Even without Ling Feng, someone like