At the moment death encroached upon Zhou Baiyu, these words seemed to have already replayed countless times in his mind.
Like tiny sparks, blossoming ceaselessly in the absolute darkness.
They had burned, but those faint sparks were not sufficient to illuminate the darkness and ultimately returned to silence.
They should have accepted their fate.
Yet the dying man seemed unable, in the final moment, to reconcile with his greatest obsession.
He was simply unwilling, unwilling like never before.
Because this world was far from clean and beautiful.
Because this world was about to be desecrated by those detestable polluted beings.
He was so furious, so mournful.
That the sparks of hope never ceased to exist.
Finally, like a fairy-tale delusion that only existed in children's stories, his immense obsession was moved—
The thick and pitch-black darkness...suddenly tore open.
Zhou Baiyu suddenly felt a force pulling him out of the absolute darkness—
