Mage's Funeral (3)

"Strange's narration was as unremarkable and lackluster as the man himself."

The moment Tony, wearing sunglasses, stepped onto the stage, he put his talent to work. That sharp tongue of his, which had never dulled, made Strange laugh helplessly from below the stage.

"But I'm different, ladies and gentlemen. I'm going to tell you all a stirring, utterly marvelous story. To honor a hero shared by all humanity, and to remember everything he did for us. And I believe his journey will not end here."

After the initial banter, Tony's expression became extremely solemn.

"People say true death means there is no one left to remember you. From that perspective, I believe He is immortal."

Tony did not linger long on the opening, and soon moved into the story. In his tale, He Shenyan—the man who had saved an infant with his own flesh and blood without the slightest hesitation—showed another side of himself.

"Kill me, please, kill me!"

A woman wailed as if she had gone mad. She was tied to a cross, her body convulsing nonstop. The parts of her skin touching the cross hissed, her flesh warped and deformed from the burns.

He Shenyan stood before her with a grave expression. Tony, dressed in a suit, stood beside him, his face twitching.

Just from the scene alone, someone who did not know the truth might have thought the two of them were psychopaths who took pleasure in torturing people. In reality, however, they were thinking of a solution.

... Or, to be more precise, only He Shenyan was thinking. Tony was merely standing there. He felt he could not back down.

After a while, He Shenyan sighed.

"What's wrong?" Tony asked.

"Her soul has already completely fused with the evil spirit bound inside her body," He