The group set off for the sacred Land's Southwest.
They passed by a floating island.
Paper money flew down from above, and the faint voice of an old man talking to himself could be heard.
Yan feiqing muttered in his heart, could he really be dead?
Along the way, he saw many people burning paper money.
come to think of it, today is the seventh day of Xia qingchen's death. "I'll burn some paper money for him later," the Vice Saint Lord sighed.
Yan feiqing sneered. he's quite a popular person. He's already dead. Why are so many people still thinking of him? "
However, he didn't see it with his own eyes.
He didn't believe that Xia qingchen had died.
After a cup of tea's time.
The cemetery of the sacred land.
All the people of the Holy Land were buried here after they died.
They arrived in front of one of the tombs.
One of the gravestones had the words 'Xia qingchen's grave' carved on it.
