Yang Yuanhong's gentle words drifted softly away on the wind, accompanied by a glint of tears at the corner of this father's eyes.
Since childhood, Yang Yuanhong had possessed a resilience of character far beyond that of ordinary people.
In his early years of tempering his body, no matter how harsh Yang Lingqing and Chen Yang's demands were, Yang Yuanhong would risk his life to fulfill them, stopping only when he collapsed unconscious from exhaustion.
During those years, no one knew how many layers of flesh had been worn away from his body, nor how many times his bones had broken and healed.
Yet no matter how arduous the process of tempering his Dao foundation had been, Yang Yuanhong had never cried even once.
After entering the Dao and beginning cultivation, he had likewise been known for his fearless resolve. No matter what sort of opponent he faced, what trials he endured, or what desperate straits he fell into, he had never shed a single tear.
Yet this incomparably strong man, faced now with a son struck down by sudden disaster and dead in the prime of his life, ultimately could no longer hold himself together.
An atmosphere of grief spread among the crowd. Faced with such a tragedy, every Yang Clan cultivator present felt only sorrow and fury churning in their hearts, wishing they could pierce the heavens this very moment and slay the person above.
But they also knew perfectly well that, at this stage, such a thing could exist only in fantasy.
Compared with the celestial cultivator from beyond the heavens who had descended with his magic, their scant cultivation and attainments truly were no different from ants by the roadside.
If the two sides met at this moment, the other party would not even need to