He showed no signs of life.
Qin Feng walked over to his father.
He could clearly sense the Primordial Acupoint within his father's body—the one that had accompanied him his entire life—still pulsing instinctively, faintly.
The Spiritual Energy within the Primordial Acupoint was dissipating at an extremely slow rate.
A Martial Artist's whale fall.
A piece of paper was placed neatly on the coffee table.
It was a last letter.
The thin sheet of paper lay quietly on the coffee table, as if it bore the weight of a man's entire life.
Qin Feng's gaze fell upon the familiar, powerful calligraphy on the paper.
It was his father's handwriting. Every character seemed to have been carved into the very fibers of the page with the last vestiges of his life's strength.
He reached out. His fingertips paused for a fraction of a second upon touching the paper before he slowly picked it up.
Ah Feng:
By the time you read this letter, Dad is probably already gone.
