Cough cough cough...
Upon hearing this, Turs, who looked even older, laughed happily.
"Haha, what do I have to worry about?"
There was no sound from beneath her feet. The illusory figure slowly walked to the bedside, sat down, and shook her head helplessly.
"You know perfectly well what's going on, don't you? You're already lying here, do I really need to remind you?"
Turs watched as sunlight streamed into the room through the window, casting a glow on the illusory figures before finally settling upon him.
It was incredibly warm.
His dry lips parted, and the old man smiled genuinely.
Hahaha.
"So what if I'm about to die? What's there to worry about?"
His words were light and natural, without any fear or resentment.
His limbs had lost all strength, and he could only lie painfully on the hospital bed, but Turs was not afraid of his death.
Instead, it seemed as if they had breathed a sigh of relief, and they took a moment to catch their breath.
"...My lord, at my age, even if I close my eyes and never see the sunrise again, it certainly doesn't count as dying young."
You don't need to be sad for me at all.
He is very old.
In a dark age when the average age of nobles was less than sixty and commoners were only thirty or even younger, Turs, who was over seventy, was definitely considered very old.
Just as he said, it would be perfectly normal for him to fall asleep and never wake up again in the next instant.
Life and death are impermanent, yet everything is predetermined.
There's no need to worry about a useless old man anymore.
"I know."
The merciful prophet, who had been watching him, spoke softly, without denying Tulls's words.
“We have done our best to extend your life by more than two years, but now it is truly impossible to continue.”
"However, there are ways, but they would all make it impossible for you to live as a human being."
If we truly lower our standards and disregard any cost, there are countless ways to keep an ordinary person alive.
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Resurrected as an undead creature, a blood slave to a vampire, transformed into an elemental being...
It's possible, but who will bear the cost behind it?
Hearing this, Turs, as if remembering something, hurriedly tried to get up and said uneasily:
"Ahem, sir, please don't make me..."
Buzz—
"Don't get agitated. I promised you I wouldn't go against your wishes."
"Don't worry."
A golden hand loomed large before his eyes, and a slight buzzing sound from its palm quickly calmed Turs down.
"Trust me a little more."
"...Yes, sir."
Looking at Turs who obediently lay back down, Ning Feng smiled and nodded, but quickly shook his head regretfully.
"However, knowing is one thing, but how to accept it is another."
Making a choice is always the easiest thing to say, but when you actually have to face it, it's a completely different feeling.
Ning Feng grasped the old man's thin, bony hand and gave a bitter smile.
"After all, you are quite special."
The first person to communicate with me.
The first follower to follow me.
The person who pulled me back from the brink of despair.
My most stable anchor point in humanity...
"You are my friend."
Do you really think I can calmly ignore the death of my friend right now?
This was not an attempt to persuade a dying old man to continue suffering in the world, but simply a man who was not good with words saying his final goodbye to a friend.
Friends?
No, I am not qualified to call myself yours...
Turs had intended to say that, but when he saw the faint sadness on Ning's face, he kept quiet.
Are you not qualified?
No, it's not appropriate to say something so jarring right now.
"Oh, I see... Hehe."
After coughing twice, Turs felt the scene before him blur and gradually lost consciousness.
"It seems I need to hold on a little longer."
It's not about prolonging my life, but about delaying the grief of my friends.
With a smile, the old man clenched his fist tightly, a smile playing on his lips, and slowly closed his eyes.
A gentle breeze outside the window caused the curtains to flutter.
Turs was the only one left in the room.
The elderly man, his chest rising and falling slightly, drifted off to sleep in the warm sunlight.
...
...
Opening his eyes, the golden light of the child's eyes faded, returning to a pitch-black darkness devoid of any discernible emotion.
Ning Feng rose from his chair, sighed softly, and ran his fingers over the two-arm-high statue on the table.
sand……
Made of some kind of pure white material and covered with divine power, the statue instantly weathered away with this gentle touch, turning into a pile of dull dust.
"No!!! You monster! What have you done!?"
"You blasphemer! You will surely be punished by the gods!"
An angry roar exploded in the room, like the dying howl of a wild beast caught in a trap.
Beneath the bluff lies a deep-seated fear.
How pitiful.
Ning Fengqu ignored the prisoners' noisy howls, sighed to himself, and thought about the scene he had just witnessed.
"There really isn't much time left."
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