At the foot of the mountain, within the cemetery.
The elder in the Tang suit stepped out of the pavilion.
He stood before a tombstone.
His clothes were soaked by the downpour, and his gaze was tightly fixed on the photograph atop the gravestone.
Liu Menglan's deceased fiancé, Xiao Yang, was his adopted son.
Upon closer inspection.
The elder in the Tang suit felt that Ye Tian bore a slight resemblance to Xiao Yang between his brows.
He looked towards Three Tiger Mountain.
In the rainstorm, it seemed faint cries of agony could be heard.
Possibly due to the great distance, he couldn't hear very clearly.
"Xiao Yang, I once thought that one day you would become the king in the darkness of Tianhai,"
"Who would've known you'd leave us so soon."
"Now the night of Tianhai is divided among three powers."
"If this time Little Liu dies on Three Tiger Mountain, relying on that group of people will definitely not defend the empire you fought to build!"
