The words spoken by Jiang Chen, though calm, pierced the chest like a blade stained with cold-blooded rust, piercing the heart. Baili An's tightly pressed lips lost their color bit by bit.
Baili An was aware of these truths, but no one had ever unabashedly pointed them out in front of him like this.
Reality is always bloody.
Although Jiang Chen had seventeen descendants, he was never a kind father. He spoke calmly and indifferently, "I paved the way for the corpse, never to let you resume past life connections or to resolve present life resentments. Because more than anyone else, I know that in the mortal world, a century of time has long passed with no one hoping or waiting for you anymore."
Baili An wanted to retort, but he found that any words before this man were weak and powerless.
Because what he said, although cruel, was the truth.
