He looked at the sky.
The morning was very clear.
'I built you a tower,' he thought.
It was his last thought, which was not the thought he would have chosen if he had been selecting, but it was the thought that arrived, and it was entirely, specifically true.
The sky did not answer.
His wife moaned.
Cang felt him go.
Not through any system notification — the specific, qi-aware, ambient-field recognition of a Nascent Soul Mid Stage cultivator who had been monitoring the mortal at the tree line since the moment he appeared and had maintained a background tracking thread on him through the morning.
He felt the thread terminate.
He noted this.
He did not stop.
PAAH. PAAH. PAAH.
"—'AAAHN~!!!'—Senior—'HAANN~!!!'—I can feel—'AHN~!!!'—I can feel it—'AAAHNN~!!!'—so full—'HAANN~!!!'—why am I so full—'AAAHN~!!!'—'what are you doing to me'—'KYAAANGHHH~!!!'—"
She had not heard the shout.
She had not heard what followed the shout.
