Several kilometers outside of Apricot Flower Village, there were a field of graves. Wang Lin's figure appeared there. He looked at the graves before him and, after pondering for a long time, he slapped his bag of holding.
A white jade vial appeared in his hand. Holding the bottle, Wang Lin let out a sigh and said, "Sun Tai… The grudge before us is over. I have completed the promise I made to you to bring your ashes home."
As he spoke, the small bottle automatically flew forward and entered the soil in the distance. Then a small moud slowly formed.
He waved his right hand and carved with his finger. There were flashes of light as Wang Lin carved a decorative tombstone with a few small words on it.
"Sun Tai's grave"
"For us cultivators, one hundred years, one thousand years pass in the blink of an eye. Most relatives will have passed away, and those that remain feel alienated… Once you step on the path of cultivation, you are doomed to a life of hardship.
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