Carrying a body marred with fresh wounds, He Juan stepped into the funeral parlor with a bouquet of white lilies in hand. Save for his slightly stiff gait and bloodless lips, no one would be able to detect anything amiss with him. Not that it mattered, for the only person inside the hall was currently kneeling before the casket, crying and wailing his heart out.
A–Mu had neither family members or relatives. He had always been alone, and the only person who could take care of his funeral was none other than his sole disciple, Kang Guanyu.
