There was a new grave at the southeast corner of the valley.
A snow mound and a worn wooden board tombstone were all there was to this grave. Not a single word was written on it. Even if some fortunate man stumbled into this place years later, they would have no idea who had been buried here, or that this place used to be a green valley.
Mourning Sima Che after killing him was neither pretentious nor hypocritical for the two. They would not judge Sima Che on a basis of being good or evil, for he had only done a thing many others would choose to do in pursuing interests.
Therefore, what they expressed was desolation—a deep sorrow and loneliness they felt as fellow cultivators.
In the afternoon, the campsite.
