Deep within the jungle of the nameless mountain range, the rainfall eventually began to lighten. Around evening, it stopped, and the setting sun just managed to create a little bit of a rainbow.

However, as the sun set, the rainbow gradually faded away.

The jungle was quiet. Even the stench of blood had vanished. However, the corpse-lined path stretching backward bore testament to the deadly fighting which had played out.

As Chen Heng slipped away into death, his eyes continued to shine with an unyielding, incredulous expression.

Next to his corpse, Bai Xiaochun lay still and unmoving. The flame of his life force was roughly ninety percent extinguished, with only a little spark left behind, struggling to stay alive.

Eventually, footsteps could be heard from off in the distance. Someone was walking through the muddy rainwater and fallen leaves, to eventually come to a stop next to Chen Heng.

It was an old man wearing a long black robe. He had flowing white hair, and his face was covered with wrinkles, making him seem profoundly ancient. Apparently, he had lived for so long than an aura of death was already seeping out from him.

“Intense focus has bolstered his soul... he’s dead, and yet his soul hasn’t dispersed. But that won’t last for long.” The man’s voice was raspy, but also vague...