"The wind is bleak, the water is cold. Once a hero is gone, he will never return… return… return…" In the bumpy carriage, a handsome young man held a straw in the corner of his mouth and swung his legs leisurely as he wiped the heavy sword in his hand.
"Little Zhizhi, what are you saying?" The dwarf driving the carriage poked out his head and looked at the leisurely young man.
The young man looked at the heavy sword in his hand and answered with a smile, "I'm not sure. This is something a friend of mine once said. It is normally said when you are bravely sending yourself to your death."
"You humans are so interesting. You can even say such literal words to send yourself to death." The dwarf wrinkled his nose. For the straightforward dwarves, the human words were similar to the Heavenly Book.
"Perhaps one day, I will have to send myself to my death." The young man smiled heartlessly.
