Just as Ulysses had said, the hem of Fangsheng's robe was indeed being held by someone. It felt as though an invisible force was tightly gripping his heart, and an indescribable sorrow surged like a tidal wave, completely overwhelming his soul. This sorrow came for no apparent reason, yet it was overwhelmingly intense.
As it turned out, when a person's heart is filled to the brim—and even overflows—with a grief as fierce as a rising tide, language loses its original power. Even those possessed of extraordinary abilities were, at this moment, no different from mere mortals, unable to escape the shackles of such emotion.
At the same time, Ulysses realized that it was sorrow holding Fangsheng back. He could understand that sorrow was a powerful emotion; extreme grief could render a person utterly speechless, incapable of expressing the agony and melancholy locked within their heart. He had seen even high-ranking priests and bishops, figures ordinarily viewed with towering reverence by common folk, stand frozen in a daze for a long time at such moments.
Chapter 339