"Death is a release, living is torture."
The old man lived a life not quite human, not quite ghostly, unable to return home, unable to meet his daughter, enduring the agony of burning hatred every day and night...
Wasn't that more painful than death?
But he had to stay alive.
Alive, he could take his close friend's flesh and blood away; alive, he could pass on his skills and protect him fully; alive, he could take revenge together with him.
Only by staying alive was there hope; death meant everything reduced to nothing.
"Where's Bai Wuxin?" Tang Fei turned to the old man, wanting to change the subject.
He knew this topic was far too heavy for the old man, so heavy that even he himself felt like he couldn't catch his breath.
For the first time, he realized that words had such power.
Just hearing them recounted already made one feel a trembling in the body and a pain in the heart as if being suffocated.
