The Terminally Ill Young Master of the Baek Clan

Baek Ryu-san gently closed his eyes.

Then his body trembled slightly.

“Yes, yes…”

Since meeting Yi-gang and the Divine Monk at the mountain gate, he had been like this.

The meeting place, chosen as a Taoist temple, was surrounded by an abundance of maple trees.

Autumn had arrived, and the leaves had turned a brilliant red.

When the wind blew through Mount Tai, crimson leaves scattered like petals.

Amidst the falling leaves, Baek Ryu-san struggled to speak.

“So, you’re saying… the demonic energy…”