In the shabby theater, a few golden light beams were cast inwards from the broken ceiling above the head. The sunlight spread into the dark theater. The flames burned the building. The wood was burning and the bitter and salty smell of blood came from the air.

Yuan Zhisheng held his chest, like Jing Ke who had failed to assassinate Qin, and sat on the wall. He stared at the visible figure of Ming Mie. His handsome face was covered with dullness, but under this surface, many complex emotions surged.

He didn't know how to describe his mood.

Angry, confusing, shocked, lost...

The mixed emotions seemed like a hodgepodge. Yuan Zhisheng closed his eyes and he was a little tired.

"Young Master!"

Jiro Suzuki ran over from a distance. The fight just now was too intense, Jiro Suzuki had already retreated into the crowd.

"Young Master, are you okay?"

Jiro Suzuki stepped forward to ask about Genjiso's physical condition. Genjiso opened his eyes and shook his head.

He is Amaterasu, a hybrid species with extremely high bloodline. The dragon blood in his body can make his physical fitness beyond imagination. He will not be disabled by the ghost of Prajna. He is just a little tired.

Both physically and internally, I feel a little tired.

Too much information poured into his brain, the unprecedented ghost of Prajna was beyond his imagination, and the great hero of "Zoro" with a mask made Yuan Zhisheng unable to describe his abilities.

Although Yuan Zhisheng is not a conceited person, he knows that there are few mixed-race species in this world that can match him. He needs to be entangled with a ghost of Prajna for a long time and even gets at a disadvantage, but that "Zoro" actually killed them with bare hands.

It was a scene he would never forget in his life. The devil he needed to deal with with all his strength. That guy actually took them apart like he was tearing off the toys.

There is no harm without comparison, which greatly hit Yuan Zhisheng's self-esteem. Although he won, this feeling was very uncomfortable.

Not trying to blame anything...

This feeling is like the classroom in the school days. You have been working out for a long time to solve an extremely difficult problem. You go on stage with confidence to explain your problem-solving ideas to teachers and classmates. The classmates look at you with admiration and applaud.

But at this time, your absent-class deskmate came to the classroom. He just took a look at the question and proposed a very easy-to-understand solution. The questions with complex procedures were left aside, and the classmates only saw the outstanding performance of your deskmate.

The teacher and classmates were surrounded by your deskmate and admired him, while you were holding your paper and dazzled.

This is the difference between ordinary people and geniuses.

But Yuan Zhisheng never thought he was an ordinary person. He had a heavy burden on him. It was not an exaggeration to say that he was an elite among the elites, and the emperor among the mixed races was not an exaggeration.

He could not imagine who that person was, which exceeded his cognition.

He needs time to digest this information and calm down.

Yuan Chinen threw the shadow dancer aside, cut the boy in his hand and walked towards the injured Zero.

Zero struggled to get up from the ground. Her hands and feet were sore and numb. Her thighs were ripped. Her chest was dull and she felt like a stone was pressed down. Her snow-white face was now stained with blood. Her dazzling dress, which was also stained with blood on the ground, was dyed red by the blood stains on the ground, like a bloody flower on the ice field.

But such a little flower faces the north wind, but still has to straighten its body and prove to people her indomitableness and frost pride.

When she got up, her calves suddenly became weak and her body, which had not stood firm, fell down. It happened to be supported by Yuan Zhinu, and she fell on Yuan Zhinu's chest.

Zero's vision was a little blurred, his eyes were congested, and his head was dizzy, but she could hear the rapidly beating heart in the chest beside her ears, and her warm chest gave her the same shelter as her harbor.

She lay on the boy's chest, the temperature from her fingertips was reassuring, and the breath emitted by the boy was so fresh, like lying under the sunny tree in spring, the breeze that breeze would bring the fragrance of flowers.

There was a subtle curve hidden under her calm cheeks, as if time was paused at this time, stayed for a while, and became more greedy for this reassuring smell.

"It's all right."

Yuan Chinen murmured softly, her arms wrapped around the girl's soft waist, and her fingers slowly rubbed her delicate and smooth jade back.

His eyes were slightly down, and he found that Zero's dress had been soaked in blood, and the blood was still flowing along the white thighs. Yuan Chiu wanted to lift her skirt to see the wound, but Zero grabbed her hand, with strength in her cold gaze.

She didn't want Yuan Zhinu to see her embarrassed side, even if it was a wound.

Her power was insignificant than the Origin Nude, but there was a kind of stubbornness in that strong force. Origin Nude did not check her wounds in the end.

Ling let go of the hand holding him, but Yuan Zi Nu took advantage of Ling's not paying attention and a princess hugged her up.

The girl's actions without warning made her scream. She looked at Yuan Zhinu with a little shame and anger, but Yuan Zhinu seemed to have not seen her eyes and walked straight towards the crowd.

Zero's chest was slightly ups and downs, and she clenched her fists and hammered Yuan Chin's chest.

But the consequences of doing this made her regret because it made her look very girlish. She tried to observe Yuan Chiu's expression, but he wore a mask and said nothing. Who knew what he was thinking in his heart.

Gradually, she seemed to have begun to accept this offensive move and shrank her head on his shoulders.

In the sun, Yuan Chiu stepped on the opera house where the body was covered. The sunlight was cast on the broken ceiling above his head, shining on the two of them. Zero's white dress was stained with blood. Yuan Chiu stepped on the body, as if a knight with a white horse and silver spear had passed by alone, saving the little princess from the villain.

"What a romantic fairy tale." Henkel commented on the innermost rostrum.

"This is my favorite student." Angers looked at the light from the dark opera house, and his old eyes were filled with fanaticism. "He lived the most desired appearance, like my old friend."

Henkel's side face, the light in the depths of the Opera House was very poor, and he could only see Angers' golden eyes flashing slightly.

"You're still thinking about Menek Kassel?"

"He is a hero, I cannot compare with him. Some people are alive, he is dead, and some people are dead, he is still alive." Anger sighed softly. His days in Cambridge were the sunniest and brightest time in his life.

When Henkel talks about Menek Cassel in the first year, he will remind Anger of everything about Cambridge.

He is already 130 years old. Logically, even if a person of his age has not been buried, he has basically prepared a coffin and lie on the bed to tell stories about the past to his descendants.

But Angers was different. He could even sit on his coffin and drink whiskey, and talk to his descendants about which color of lace in the lace look good.

However, this does not mean that Angers is not nostalgic. In fact, he returns to Cambridge every year to check out. Although there are no one he knows there, the academy has been renovated many times.

Every time a student saw Angers, he thought he was an outsider who came to visit. Angers naturally understood that kind of gaze. He would not say that he was a person who graduated from Cambridge Theological Seminary in 1897. If he did this, he would probably be kicked out as a lunatic.

He walked in school, and each of the young students held an electronic device. They no longer discussed poetry, studied art and religion, but instead wanted to go to the metropolis to seek a job in the financial industry.

The young girls who once made him admire the blue eyes had long been buried with their husbands. Now girls do not wear those beautiful white silk skirts and Oxford-style high heels, and they will no longer sit under the tree to study Shelley's poems.

Anger passed by those people, as if a lonely soul had traveled through a hundred years and wandered back to the school he had been dreaming of.

There was where he had existed, with his friends and girls he liked, so he remembered everything here. Every time he walked over there, the floating white skirts and the chanting poems seemed to be vivid.

"I couldn't hold the sword in my hand, and I couldn't resist the changes brought by time. Time was as hateful as the dragon clan. It took my girl and my school, and the dragon clan took my friends, and I am now alone." Angers' cigar burned violently.

"So you plan to take revenge on time, too?" Henkel found it ridiculous.

"No, time is an irresistible enemy. If the history of the dragon clan is really ended one day, then time will kill me." Angers threw the burned cigar on the ground.

He can control the power of time and live without dying by time, but his attitude towards time is like a ungrateful wolf. Perhaps no one hates everything that time brings more than him.

When time passes by, all that is left is loneliness and nothingness, and nothing else exists.
Chapter completed!