That was his gaze, his very gaze!
Amato tried his best to shout those words.
But after his life essence was devoured, he could only let his already hazy consciousness sink into darkness, his powerless body slumping on the ground.
He watched Gu Xinghe's actions almost as if he were watching with his own eyes, but his eyes in mid-air seemed to show neither sadness nor joy.
At this moment, Gu Xinghe squatted down and looked at Field, who was lying on the ground.
"Help...help me..."
Gu Xinghe didn't say anything, but simply stroked Field's somewhat dirty and messy hair comfortingly.
Clusters of tentacles emerged from his shadow, devouring the blade that bound Field.
After endless darkness and despair, Field knew—
He was finally redeemed.
The excruciating pain in my limbs had subsided, seemingly due to the pain-relieving properties of the cold, black mist that permeated the space.
Yes, Field knew—
It was not a holy light, but rather a black mist that, in the eyes of ordinary people, symbolized something eerie and ominous.
The mist itself was cold and did not make people feel warm.
But at this moment, Field felt that was where his true heart belonged.
A holy angel radiating warm light, and an eerie, ominous aura permeated by cold black mist.
At this moment, Field chose the latter without hesitation.
Because, at this moment, Field finally learned—
Regardless of which definition it is, these are merely definitions that humans have given them, but the true gods never care.
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