Zhang Yuanqing's mind exploded with a boom, as though a grenade had detonated inside it, blasting his soul to pieces and grinding his consciousness to dust, leaving only blankness.
A wave of ringing filled his ears.
After an unknown amount of time, Zhang Yuanqing was jolted awake by Guan Ya's increasingly urgent calls.
"Yuanshi, what's wrong with you?"
"Aren't you at Fu Qingyang's villa? Why did a portrait of the Demon Lord suddenly appear? What happened? Do you need me to come over?"
As a Scout, Guan Ya had keenly sensed that something was wrong from Yuanshi's prolonged silence.
Zhang Yuanqing took a deep breath and did his utmost to keep his voice from trembling. "I'm fine, Sister Guan Ya. Thanks for your help. I've got something to deal with here, so I'm hanging up first!"
He hung up impatiently. The instant he pressed the button, his whole body went limp, and he slumped back in his chair, gasping for breath.
Fuck! The Demon Lord wasn't dead. The Demon Lord was still alive. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
If the Demon Lord wasn't dead, then what was I, his inheritor, supposed to be?
Could there be some hidden danger with the Role Card on me? How could the Demon Lord have appeared that very night and taken the Little Sun from the Fallen Holy Grail?
The Demon Lord hadn't killed me that night. He clearly knew I was the owner of his Role Card. If he didn't kill me, did he have some other purpose?
Did Brother Bing know the Demon Lord was still alive? No—was the one who mailed me the Role Card that day really Brother Bing?!
All kinds of thoughts and doubts bubbled up, dense and chaotic, leaving his mind incapable of calm thought.
The Demon Lord's appearance