Heaven and earth collapsed, and the path to immortality was destroyed.
The world of cultivation, which was once flourishing, was finally destroyed by the iron hoof of the undead clan from another world. The demonic energy was stained with blood, and corpses were everywhere. Mo Heng used his immortal bones to burn all the Dao foundations, and used his life as a sacrifice to protect the last remaining vein of the world of cultivation.
The war ended, and the undead retreated, leaving only a dead bloody wasteland.
The young man in black clothes fell to his knees in the mountain of corpses and sea of blood. He went crazy, rummaging and digging through the cold corpses. From day to night, and from night to dawn, his hoarse voice had long been broken, leaving only heart-rending sobs.
"Master..."
"Why..."
"You can obviously live alone, why do you want to save these losers?!"
"If this world of cultivation is destroyed, it will be destroyed. What does it have to do with me! What does it have to do with you—!"
The young man suddenly clenched his hands full of blood and mud, raised his head and screamed at the gray sky, his tears mixed with blood and fell down, hitting the charred earth.
He searched every corner and every cold body.
But that cold and lonely figure, always dressed in black, can no longer be found.
The young man lay limp in the pile of corpses, trembling all over, and his voice was as soft as a soul about to dissipate.
"Master... I can't find you."
"I really... Can't find you."
Intention: Master, don't throw me away!