"Cough cough..."
As soon as An Xingsheng left, Li Shenghui's face turned flush red, followed by a bout of coughing that seemed as though he was going to expel his lungs.
With his coughing, Wang Zijia detected a foul stench of decay. Li Shenghui also coughed up some rotten, blackened blood.
"I've made a laughingstock of myself in front of Ninth Younger Brother!" Li Shenghui managed to suppress his cough and stabilize his breath after a moment, and said to Wang Zijia with a weak voice.
His complexion was ashen, his look wretched, and his body frail and withered, exuding a sense of desolation, no longer possessing the ease and composure of the past.
He was hardly recognizable from the person Wang Zijia remembered.
Wang Zijia frowned and said to Li Shenghui, "Didn't you say you had at least a few hundred years left? You don't look like you could last a hundred years like this."
Li Shenghui managed a forced smile and did not reply right away, but slowly untied his robe.
