That was why, the moment victory was won, the Monk had immediately cast aside his identity as "Xie Yunliu," forsaken high office and riches, abandoned glory, and laid down his armor to return home and find his dear big brother.
"How could you…"
The man waved his hand. "It's nothing. Quick, tell me. In the scenery that 'I' never experienced, did you notice anything strange?"
The Monk helped the man sit on the bed. A foul stench wafted from it, a layer of discarded paper covering its surface. The Monk fell silent. He couldn't imagine how the man, having lost both his legs, had managed to endure these past five years.
Day after day, year after year, he had been persistent, obsessed, driven to Madness, and consumed by guilt—all just to create the legendary "Cannibal Painting."
