"The Ancestral Dragon is dead!"

The gates of the Changsheng platform opened, and Liu Ji stumbled and tumbled, shouting as he ran in.

Ying Zheng is dead?

"The Ancestral Dragon is dead!"

He raised the silk in his hand high above his head, as if holding some terrifying prophecy that had come true.

I took the silk from his trembling hands, the vivid painting on it showing a carriage, with the person lying inside being none other than the emperor I was extremely familiar with, Ying Zheng.

Has he finally died?

I wanted to burst into laughter, but the laughter froze in its place.

Why am I still a mountain ghost?

No.

"He is not dead!"

Looking at the young man accompanying the carriage in the painting, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the young Ying Zheng, I roared in anger.

"For the sake of longevity, he is no longer human!"