Left Garrison smiled, recalling the same vibrant golden hue in his mind.
"Honestly, I miss that place too, really wish I could go back just once more."
Left Garrison sighed.
"This is truly not a good time for nostalgia, wouldn't you agree, Zhao Lun?"
Next, Left Garrison handed over something; it was his beloved gun, the weapon named Fallen Star.
"Hmm?"
Zhao Lun did not understand his intention. This was Left Garrison's beloved gun, and this elderly man seldom showed affection for any object except this Fallen Star.
"Roger is coming, I need you to do something."
Left Garrison looked at him and spoke in a solemn tone.
Zhao Lun's gaze seemed somewhat distracted. He gripped the Fallen Star, looked at Left Garrison again, and then asked,
"Will our deaths have any meaning?"
