"Zhou Pao, Brother Zhu, Drilling Mountain Leopard and his men are finished!"
"That's right. Xu Mabang, Yin Hu, Wang Mazi, Song Heiqi… every last one of those bastards is dead."
Zhao Lin and Liang Song stood before the graves, offering incense, candles, paper money, grains, and fruits. They were sharing the good news with their two departed friends, to comfort their souls in the afterlife.
Now that there was no need to worry about bandits desecrating the graves, stone tablets had been erected, carved with their two names.
Zhao Lin felt a little dazed. The bandits he once saw as an unshakable force had crumbled in less than a year.
'If I hadn't cultivated the martial path, I'd probably be a pile of bones by now.'
'Martial strength is the foundation of my survival in this world.'
After bowing a few more times, the two left in silence.
On the way back, Zhao Lin suddenly stopped and pointed northwest of Baitou Mountain. "Someone's roasting meat over there."
