A silver moon hung overhead on the outskirts of Luojing.
Wearing a black cloak, Zhang Chu dismounted outside a ruined temple.
The temple stood amid a vast grove of poplars. No one was around, and the light was dim. All that could be heard was the eerie rustling of fallen leaves in the breeze.
Following behind him, He Can frowned at this Great Omen of Misfortune, a place where nothing good could possibly happen.
"Planning to dispose of me? Executing a general before battle isn't a good omen..."
Zhang Chu led the way up ahead, saying coldly:
"Scared?"
He Can wasn't insane. How could he not fear death? His mouth, however, refused to back down.
"You bastards have jerked me around so much I've had enough of living anyway. The Nether God Sect has such a big reputation, but now it seems you're not capable of much. You leave Xie Jinhuan alone instead of dealing with him, and whenever something happens, all you know how to do is punish your own people..."
"This is called 'examining oneself three times each day.' When something happens, however uncanny our opponent might be, does that mean there's nothing wrong with us?"
?
He Can opened his mouth. "Fine, now we've got a master-disciple lineage. At least I've passed on my master's mantle before dying."
His words were lighthearted, but He Can kept searching his surroundings for an escape route.
Yet the ruined temple seemed to have been abandoned for over twenty years. Weeds overran its interior, and faint marks left by swords and sabers could still be seen on the paving stones. Who knew what had happened here?
Zhang Chu led the way to the temple's main hall, then raised a hand.
"After you."
He Can cautiously climbed the steps and peered inside.