Yang Qi Quan nodded solemnly: "Rest assured, Prince, I will do my best and won't let the brothers down."
Han Lei looked at the sky and gently reminded: "It looks like it's going to rain soon, let's head back. Leave the matters of the cemetery to Mr. Yang, no need to worry too much."
Zhao Zun nodded, took one last look at the orderly mound of graves, and waved to everyone.
"Let's go, head home."
The group slowly made their way down the mountain path.
The clouds hung low, heavy black clouds gathered from all directions, the wind began to weave through the mountains, carrying a damp smell, swirling the dried leaves and dust on the ground, making a rustling sound.
Trees swayed in the wind, branches and leaves moved uneasily, as if whispering the impending storm, or perhaps bidding farewell to Zhao Zun from the spirits of Ma Cheng and his trusted aides...
...I am the lazy dividing line...
At this moment, in the Capital City Imperial Palace.
