In the dilapidated old house, only faint moonlight penetrated the mist, shining on the old man who was covered in bruises and barely clinging to life.
A young boy, his face streaked with tears, clutched the old man's hand tightly, sobbing in heartbreak.
Nearby, another short and skinny boy remained indifferent to the touching scene of master and disciple, his face twisted with resentment as he cursed while crying:
"You old bastard, you really deserve to die! I clearly made it back! Why do you insist on taking me away too! Sob sob..."
"Wu Ping, shut up! Do you have any conscience at all!"
Wu Cheng glared angrily at Wu Ping. He had never been particularly harsh with his younger brother, but this time, he was truly furious.
"Brother! What conscience are we supposed to have with evil spirits!"
As soon as Wu Ping finished speaking, a sudden "slap" rang out, and Wu Cheng's fierce slap left Wu Ping stunned in place.
