Snap!
The horned infant's skull cracked open.
A man, with a face as if carved from jade and standing tall and upright, lowered his head in silence for a moment, then stood up and approached the secret chamber's wall.
On the wall hung a painting, depicting a man in sumptuous attire with a long beard, debonair and dashing, with eyes radiating brilliance.
"The sorrow of a fallen nation, a thousand years turned to emptiness..."
The man's fists clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white, eyes filled with an ancient desolation, "Your Majesty, Ziquan... it's all for naught!"
After standing in a daze for a moment, the man took a deep breath, his expression gradually calming, turned around and walked towards the other side of the wall, transforming into a faint shadow, passing through the wall.
Outside was a study room, where cold moonlight hung solitary beyond the window frame, snow pressed down upon the plum blossoms, and the candle flames flickered unsteadily.
