"Your mentor...he...is no longer here."

He quickly took out the warm package from his arms, flew away his fingers and uncovered the cloth satin on it, revealing a piece of red-colored prison clothes.

"This is written by Mr. Shuhua to you...you can take a look."

The pen that drew the wall hovered, facing the wall, Lu Liangsheng was frozen in place, watching the wall moving his sight bit by bit, and turned around with difficulty.

"My mentor..."

His eyes were on the piece of prison clothes folded in the Taoist's hand, and his hand trembled and raised it up, grabbed it in his hand, and slowly spread it out.

The blood on it has dried up, but the handwriting is still clear.

"I will give birth to my disciples.

I hope for peace. When the capital is separated, the yin and yang will be separated. I am in prison. I am not afraid of death. I don’t have to be sad about good life. The road to succession to sages is bumpy. But we Confucians should regard death as if they are home, and die as their place. However, whenever I think of living with good life, it is a rare memory of my teacher’s death in prison…”

boom--
Chapter completed!