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Outside Xia Shan City, the great battle had ended, and the Mountain True King was dead.
"Cough, cough..."
Jiang Buping coughed, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, drop by drop, seemingly unable to stop. His body was covered in wounds, seemingly on the verge of collapse.
He glanced back at Xia Shan City, where people knelt on the ground, and more martial artists wanted to come out to heal him. Jiang Buping waved his hand, took a few steps, and disappeared into the distance.
"I can't hold on anymore; this time, I'm really going to die.
"Unwilling? Maybe, but that's how the world is. What can unwillingness do?
"Taikun's discarded son? Hahaha, truly laughable. How could I, Jiang Buping, care about the so-called glory of the Taikun Jiang Clan? If there's no place for me, a mere son, then I'll just leave!"
Jiang Buping murmured to himself, yet he continuously shook his head.