The black journal had no so-called password.
He slowly opened the journal; inside, there were no feigned profound insights, nor any romantic notions of youth. It was a journal documenting his own growth.
Contained within were analyses of weapon performance, experiences with using biochemical beasts, as well as analyses of the political and financial landscape, and also insights into the cultivation of martial arts…
...
Waldor Jones gently closed the journal and lay quietly on Julion Johnsons's bed, drifting unknowingly into sleep…
...
Downstairs in the main hall.
The door slowly opened, and Putto Johnsons, holding a paper document, approached him and said softly, "Father."
"Read."
Jeffery Johnsons leaned back in an expensive carved wooden chair, with an indescribable weariness in his brow.
"Isabella Lindsey wasn't wrong, Allen Parker's heart was pierced by a bullet…"
