"Hehe, what does all this have to do with you? Qingrui is my biological daughter; even in death, I cannot bear to see her die. I, Feng Wuheng, do not wish to experience the pain of a white-haired man sending off a black-haired one."
Feng Wuheng smiled briefly, then quickly stepped forward to support Jian Yinhe. He understood that Jian Yinhe felt immensely guilty at this moment, but what was done was done. No matter how much he regretted or blamed himself, it was all meaningless.
If the past cannot be changed, then one must face the present and future resolutely.
After helping Jian Yinhe stand, Feng Wuheng's expression became more solemn. He said, "Yinhe, I have something to entrust to you as your master."
"Master, please tell me."
Jian Yinhe's eyes were unwaveringly determined.
"My strength will grow weaker by the day. If news of this reaches the Divine Pavilion, I'm afraid a battle between the Sword Sect and the Divine Pavilion is inevitable."
