It was a silent forest farm, morning light filtering gently through the treetops and falling soundlessly upon the pitch-black coffin.
This was probably Qing Ye's chuunibyo-like twisted sense of humor.
There was no corpse inside the coffin, only a dazzling assortment of syringes: one-milligram trial samples, two-milliliter standard versions, and five-milliliter value packs with extra volume at no extra cost.
There were roughly six hundred of them.
Marveling at the sheer quantity, Zhao Bai lightly swung his blade. The coffin burst apart amid blazing firelight, and everything inside began to burn fiercely.
"I feel like a mere spectator..."
he remarked.
Zhao Bai truly was just a passerby. The protagonist of this gangster drama had already retired after achieving fame and success, preparing to make a final push for next year's college entrance exams.
Shaking off his melancholy, Zhao Bai watched the last vial gradually evaporate in the flames. Then he rose to his feet, his gaze passing through the treetops toward the distant direction of Sky City, which he still could not see.
"That place is probably the source of this farce. Damn World Serpent."
Zhao Bai was absolutely certain that World Serpent had been meddling in 99.9 percent of the nonsense that happened in Sky City. He had never killed the wrong people.
World Serpent had become rather short-handed.
Gray Serpent had amnesia, Raven was in prison, and the only ones left to hold things together were the dimwitted Jackal and Gray Serpent's mechanical puppet, which was used to play the straight man.
She sat before the computer, tapping at the keyboard to control the mechanical Gray Serpent.
"Say hello."
"He~llo~"
The mechanical voice of Gray Serpent's system naturally carried a certain comedic quality. Jackal had played with it for months without getting tired of it, and she