In the hospice, within the most exquisite care room.
On the hospital bed, Old Master Xuu, with hair gray and gaunt body, lay with half-closed eyes, occasionally twitching at the corners of his mouth. Was it due to pain or an unconscious loss of bodily control?
But even so, having been a once-powerful and influential elder figure who helped found the nation and build the dynasty—Old Master Xuu Dongtian, who even now lay so pitifully on the hospital bed, exuded an unintentional aura from his eyes that commanded respect, evoked awe, and made one's heart tremble.
As the saying goes, the eyes are the windows to one's inner soul. Genuine great figures and real heroes command respect even if this is all they have left—and no one dares to ignore it.
In this room, Elder Xunn stood, clad in traditional late Qing Dynasty attire, with a small medical box on his back. He gazed at his old superior, who was also a longtime friend, feeling countless emotions silently churning in his heart.
