When Hu Yanting died, his face was hideous, and his features were twisted and deformed. His head soaked in salt made it look like snowflakes crowned him.
"Uncle."
Fang Zheng placed the head in front of the grave and sighed:
"I have avenged your death. I hope that you, knowing this in the afterlife, can rest in peace and start anew as soon as possible; that is what's important."
"Alas!"
"Why were you so hasty back then? If you had waited for me, we could have discussed it in detail before time-traveling. Instead, you ended up losing your life."
"Sigh..."
The autumn wind swept the ground, carrying a few fallen leaves.
Fang Zheng murmured for a long time at the grave before kneeling on both knees, bowing, and leaving alone.
The next day.
The head in front of the grave was discovered, causing a flurry of activity at the Public Security Bureau. However, identifying the deceased was just wishful thinking.
