The sky above the cemetery was a dull grey, heavy clouds hanging low as though even the heavens mourned with them.
The faint scent of damp earth filled the air while quiet murmurs drifted among the funeral guests gathered beneath rows of black umbrellas. Somewhere in the distance, a crow cried harshly before flying across the darkened sky.
Ming Ye stood motionless beside the grave.
He wore an entirely black suit, his tall figure straight and silent amidst the crowd, but there was something about him now that felt different from before. The sharp arrogance that used to cling to him so naturally had disappeared completely, leaving behind only a terrifying emptiness.
His dark eyes remained fixed on the white coffin being lowered slowly into the ground.
Inside it lay Zi Han.
Even now, the thought still did not feel real.
Everything over the past month had felt unreal.
