"To...day, let these people be buried with you."
Cheng Sicheng's smile gradually widened.
Like a demon overlooking all insignificant people and things, devoid of emotion, utterly cold.
The flickering flame of the fire stick reflected in his deep pupils, not showing the brightness of the fire, only madness.
He lit the small round ball in his hand.
At this moment, Cheng Sicheng laughed recklessly.
His voice was hoarse and deep, inexplicably heavy, making one's heart sink.
As if the fist-sized round ball could destroy the world, turning everything into a dark abyss.
He casually tossed it backward, the rolling flame like a meteor, landing on one side of the battlefield.
Clutching his aching chest, he sat down desolately, having no intention of leaving, calm and content, as if nothing had happened.
He only thought of his mother's appearance, with a trace of reluctance and unwillingness to let go.
