Yang Fan, holding the recorder in his hand, fell silent, his throat slightly choked up, wanting to say something but unable to.
To the end, Shi Tou never thought of himself, he thought of the Dark Night Army, still contemplating how to atone. Was he really a traitor?
"Shi Tou, do you have anything else you want to say?" Yang Fan spoke with a slightly trembling voice.
"I just want to say, I'm sorry to the brothers..." With a difficult pause, Shi Tou raised his bloodied hand and pointed once more to the pocket on his chest.
Yang Fan reached in, it was another recorder.
"Everything I want to say is in here, just let my... ashes remain in Sicily. Even in death, I have no face to return to Struwa... Yang Fan... take care..."
With his last effort, Shi Tou uttered those last two words, his slightly raised head fell down, completely silent.
