Night Talk

June, the end of midsummer.

The Bu'ao War, which had lasted half a year, had entered an even more desperate stage.

On the northern and eastern fronts, artillery fire raged without cease.

Countless wrecks of tanks, airships, and fighter planes lay scattered across the scorched earth stretching for thousands of miles.

Artillery thundered, bullets rained.

Terrifying roars and piercing gunfire rose and fell one after another.

Trenches and fortresses were built, destroyed, then built again.

More than a million soldiers had already died on both sides.

Yet the people of the two nations could not witness these horrific scenes with their own eyes. They could only obtain related information through newspapers, radio broadcasts, and other media.

On the evening of June 25th.

A stifling, scorching wind swept through the imperial capital.

An elderly man in a suit, his hair completely white, emerged from the Four Directions Palace with the support of a white cane.

The female guards on both sides raised their guns in salute.

The old man nodded in acknowledgment and left, leaning on his cane.

At last, beneath the setting sun, he stopped at the end of a cobblestone path and turned to look back at the magnificent building.

Remembering his conversation with the Führer moments ago, a relieved smile appeared on his aged face.

Then he left without looking back.

His shadow stretched longer and longer until it merged with the shadow of the Four Directions Palace.

Paracelsus walked alone with his cane from the central district to South Muse, slowly making his way down a street.

Night had fallen, and the sky was dim.

He eventually stopped before an orphanage.

Dim lighting shone out from within the orphanage.

The orphanage was not large, consisting of only an old four-story building with a low-walled courtyard outside. Green