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At Mount Pingdu, near the former site of the Nether Gate, three figures stood in silence.
As one of the members of the Small Nether Realm expedition three months ago, Huai Jing still thought back to that strange trip. Apart from driving there and back, he hadn't really managed to do anything else at all.
"Amitabha. What's gone is gone. We can only keep them in our hearts."
Shi Qianzhang sighed quietly. "Yeah."
He placed a red rose into the patch of wildflowers at their feet. Three months had passed, yet many still came here to leave flowers and say a few words in memory of the departed.
A stone tablet stood in front of the flowerbed. On it was a short inscription and a three-inch black-and-white photo of a man holding a sword. He was smiling serenely.
Huai Jing blinked and murmured, "Why did you bring a rose?"
Shi Qianzhang shook his head. "Don't get the wrong idea. It's not that I ever had any improper fantasies about Brother Sheng. He's already gone. We can't sully his pure reputation. I just always found...
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