The words "cause and effect" carried too much weight to come from such a young child, yet he spoke them with complete seriousness. At that moment, something beyond explanation seemed to stir. The gears of fate turned and locked together, slowly dragging some irresistible conclusion from afar toward them.
But Wen Zhao paid no attention to the crowd's gazes. He slowly unfurled the scroll of newspaper in his hands, and in an instant, a weighty sense of age and desolation filled the air. It was as if he had unfurled not a scroll, but an entire stretch of forgotten history.
Images emerged within the scroll, time flowed onward, and a moment later, several figures dressed in styles from entirely different eras slowly stepped out, as though they had walked straight from the dust of history.
The one at their head was naturally Lord of False Words. Most of those present had never seen him before, and his terrifying face made them instinctively recoil.
Several people stood beside Lord of False Words, both men and women, all dressed differently. Among them was a heavily made-up dancer in a qipao, as well as a young gentleman in a suit and leather shoes, wearing a top hat and gold-rimmed glasses.
As Lord of False Words appeared, black ash began to drift through the air. He raised his eyes to look at Jiang Cheng and the fat man. The complexity in his gaze was plain for anyone to see. For some reason, the fat man suddenly remembered the fate Lord of False Words had once spoken of to him.
It was as if some unseen force were pulling at him and the doctor, ensuring that they would meet at a certain appointed moment, then part at another predetermined time—perhaps without even having the chance