Sentencing

In the twenty-second year of Eastern Continent, the fourth month of spring.

In a prison somewhere in the Far North Region, it was still bitterly cold.

The north wind blew, the snowflakes drifted, snowflakes drifting as the year arrived...

Ouyang Tian looked at the ice and snow outside, his heart colder than either.

I was living such a winning life. How did I end up in this frozen wasteland? He thought it over again and again, yet still could not figure out what he had done wrong.

In that situation, if he had not punched Qian Zhengkun, could he still call himself a man?

Swallowing his anger?

Letting the other man expose all those things about him? In the end, it was because he cared too much about Saya, fearing that she would leave him over matters from his past.

He huddled behind the iron bars, clutching his newly shaved head. His dark stubble made him look utterly unlike his former dashing self.

He had already realized what fate awaited him. He would probably have to spend several years doing hard labor before he could get out.

After all, that punch had indeed been a heavy one.

In truth, he knew that Otherworldly Users and Ordinary Persons often came into conflict.

Living beneath the same roof, how could a spoon avoid knocking against the rim of a pot?

But no one would come to blows openly. With just a look, White Glove would naturally help settle things.

Yet he had acted impulsively. After all, he was still a reckless youth under thirty, not yet capable of the thick skin and composure of those seasoned old hands who could wipe away spit from their faces as though nothing had happened.

"Prisoner 7382, you have a visitor." A cold, Ruthless announcement rang