lt;The misfortune of

Death, this is not because of his low mental fortitude, but because he is truly dying. A strong rope tightly binds around his neck.,All eyes beheld a crowd clad in homespun tunics, their waists cinched with pale cloth belts. Both men and women sported long hair, styled into loose topknots atop their heads. The faces of the elder men bore etchings of hardship deeper than the yellow earth itself.,Lin Zhaoran watched the fading figure, his face etched with a mixture of helplessness and resignation.。