The scene of an old man and a young man smoking by the window in the corridor seemed somewhat amusing, like two seasoned smokers hiding together to enjoy the pleasure of smoking.
Looking out the window, Zhang Xingzhou took a puff and coughed softly, "I've seen all there is to see in my life, I'm not afraid of death."
Yang Chen took a deep breath and said calmly, "Are you afraid of the unrest after death?"
Zhang Xingzhou's complexion changed but quickly recovered, smiling faintly, "And why would you say that, young man?"
"You know." Yang Chen gazed out the window, recalling the thrilling journey of a sect's power in the past.
"I truly don't understand!" Zhang Xingzhou's smile faded, staring at Yang Chen seriously. Though he seemed calm, the slight tremor of the hand holding the cigarette betrayed him.
