"That's good, that's good... this is already the final fairness..."
Wang Xu repeated softly, his voice inexplicably tinged with melancholy, then slowly turned his head to look into the distance.
"I'll return to the Imperial Capital first. You… keep watch here for now."
"Yes, farewell Martial Ancestor!"
Martial Saint quickly bowed.
Wang Xu turned his back to him but merely waved his hand. Within his departing figure, there lingered traces of solitude and desolation.
Watching Wang Xu's disappearing figure, the ink-tattooed face of Martial Saint gradually shed its respectful mask, revealing instead deep resentment:
"One hundred and ten years old, you're already asking me to be content... yet you've lived over two hundred years yourself!"
"Why won't you pass on the True Martial Sutra that allows you to prolong your life to me?"
"What are you afraid of? Are you worried that I might threaten your position?"
"But I… I only desire immortality!"
...
