On a mountain pass, the wind was blowing a bit hastily, dispersing the stench of blood in the air.

A new grave had just been erected without a tombstone nor offerings!

Cultivators were not immortals. On the contrary, it was even more melancholic when a cultivator died. They usually lived for several hundred years, and all of their friends and families would already be dead. It was a solitary end to be buried in the sand. There would not even be one person to take care of them before their moment of death.

Feng Feiyun personally buried Liu Qinsheng into his grave along with his crushed arm. Buddha said that if a dead person’s body remained intact, then they could reincarnate into a human in their next life.

Wang Meng was lying on the ground with a complicated expression in his eyes that were as big as brass bells. It was a mix of sadness and hatred!

The cultivation of Wang Meng and Liu Qinsheng was not ordinary; both of them had reached peak God Base,...