Chapter Forty-Seven: Life, Death, Withering, and Blooming

!" Qin Nianmin was over fifty years old, his hair already streaked with gray. But looking at his helpless father, he himself felt like a child lost in the dark.He crawled a few steps, tears streaming...text you'd like translated!The courtyard was suddenly empty.Jiang Wang could only let out a cold snort of unwillingness and returned to his own room alone.There are many great teachers in the world, a...