After leaving Ox Heart Mountain, the silent Li Huowang followed the muddy path, continuing on his journey.
The paper clothes on his body and his skin gradually turned soft and rotten under the wash of the rain, eventually falling to the ground.
In the cold rain, Li Huowang's charred skin interspersed with newly grown flesh buds was gradually exposed.
Drop by drop, the rain fell on the tender flesh buds, and at this moment, Li Huowang knew what it meant to be cut a thousand times. However, he didn't try to avoid anything deliberately, silently enduring in the rain.
Gradually the rain lessened, and dawn began to break. Li Huowang stopped in a ruined temple. He hadn't slept for days and nights; he was truly exhausted.
He first looked up at the plaque that was only half intact, then at the moss-covered couplets on both sides. Although the characters had faded quite a bit, if one looked carefully, they could still be made out.