"You feel utterly hopeless, like you want to die.
Does this scene feel familiar to you?
Little Shi Hao was only eight months old that year, innocent and unaware. He had no say in anything when someone dug out his Supreme Bone.
Blood streamed from his chest, his face was pale, and his wide eyes were clouded as he cried out in pain and grief, over and over.
You're his cousin, aren't you? You were nearly four back then, weren't you?"
Xiao Tian's tone was light. He did whatever he pleased, however he pleased. He simply liked Shi Hao and was very fond of him, while he loathed Shi Yi, who had been cold to the marrow even at such a young age.
Shi Yi said nothing. The choice Xiao Tian had offered him had driven him into a dead end. In a daze, a scene from his dreams resurfaced. He remembered what he had seen clearly, all too clearly.
After losing his Supreme Bone, Shi Hao had wept endlessly from the pain, tears sliding down his little bloodless face. He curled into a ball on the cold bone-extraction bed, his body trembling involuntarily, and gradually lost consciousness. He passed out in one tiny corner of the bed, his body curled up, still murmuring at the very last moment, "Mother... Mother..."
He had been too young, such a tiny child. His final memories held only the feeling of his mother cradling him for those first four months or more-that tiny trace of the warm haven every infant longed for. Even that seemed to grow increasingly blurred. In the end, perhaps he dreamed that he was lying in his mother's arms again, so warm, so wonderfully warm, and slowly fell into a deep sleep.
"Brother, don't kill him. Sooner or later,