Green light swirled, Zhan Yue Xian's face was a desperate green. His arm slackened, his eyelids drooped, there was an undeniable sense of defeat in him, and he sunk into a questioning of his life.
At his level of cultivation, he had long stopped boasting about his youthful glory. After all, any cultivator who could step into the Integration Period was undoubtedly a one-in-a-million genius.
But right now, he felt like an old man who had wasted his prime.
Is this what it meant to cultivate to immortality?
Was there a possibility that the common masses, living their ordinary lives, were merely counterparts to these geniuses, and these geniuses, in turn, were merely counterparts to transcendent immortals like Lu Bei?
Zhan Yue Xian stared at Lu Bei. The latter casually scratched his head with an awkward smile.
Impossible, absolutely impossible!
