Seeing Zhao Changhe's slightly astonished gaze, Xia Longyuan's madness had not yet subsided, his eyes gaining a ferocious look, "Although we seek different things, it is good that you want to go home. I ask you, do you want to beg them on your knees to let you return, or do you want to step on their faces and tell them, 'I can walk on my own!' And another question, what gives them the right to put me in this place, like a prison?"
Zhao Changhe looked at his pale white hair, feeling somewhat stirred inside.
He might have been from the same era as himself, just thrown into this world decades earlier, stirring up his own peerless tempest. No matter how he called the wind and summoned the rain, fundamentally, he was also a person who had left home for decades and could not return...
Of course, he didn't look like he wanted to go back, nor was he a rebel. This person was a world-conquering hero, thinking of trampling the heavens and taking their place.
