The Post Sky Tipping Era

"Boom!"

A dull thunder exploded in the gloomy sky, seemingly heralding the arrival of a thunderstorm.

At this moment,

at a desolate mountain on the border of Xingzhou, a dilapidated temple was revealed under the flash of lightning.

"Cough cough!" A weak cough echoed from a corner of the temple.

Zhao Ge, who was seriously injured, groggily regained consciousness, his face pale and his expression withered. His hair, once partly white, had now completely whitened. Compared to last month, he seemed to have aged more than twenty years in an instant, and his wrinkled face even began to show age spots.

"Master, you’ve awakened," said a slightly weak man who hurried over when he heard the sound.

Zhao Ge struggled to sit up from the ground, his gaze dim. A sense of despair and grief welled up within him. He glanced outside at the sky and estimated the time, his voice hoarse, "Shou Hou, you and Rong Niang need to run for your lives. Continuing with me will only lead to certain death. As long as you can escape from Xingzhou, you might be able to find a way to survive."

"Master, I won’t leave. I’ve been an orphan since I was young, with no parents. Master kindly took me in, let me join the martial arts hall, gave me food, allowed me to live, and taught me boxing. Now that the martial hall is facing such a disaster, how can I abandon master and flee alone?" The weak man’s eyes showed resolute determination. "If they want to kill the master, they’ll have to step over my corpse first."