Outside the window, a fine drizzle fell.
Raindrops slanted against the glass, forming streams that snaked downwards, blurring the world outside the window.
Zhou Huai sat in his wheelchair, his gaze fixed on the black-covered notebook spread open on his desk.
It was densely filled with nas.
Most of them had already been crossed out with a cold, red X.
“Thump, thump.”
The knock on the door was very light.
Butler Fu pushed the door open, his footsteps also very light, as if afraid of disturbing sothing.
He walked behind Zhou Huai, looking as if he wanted to speak but hesitated.
Zhou Huai didn't turn around, his voice calm.
“Speak.”
Butler Fu bowed slightly, his voice carrying a hint of barely concealed grief.
“Young Master... the Master... he’s gone.”
Zhou Huai's hand, gripping the pen, didn't pause for a second.
He drew another neat, decisive X over a na.
Having done all this, he slowly closed the notebook and responded with an indifferent tone.
“I know.”
Butler Fu looked at Zhou Huai's calm profile, which showed no ripple of emotion, and opened his mouth, but in the end, it only turned into a helpless sigh.
The Young Master, after all, still hadn't forgiven the Master.
Zhou Huai turned his wheelchair to face the world outside, shrouded by the rain.
Zhou Ting's death didn't surprise him.
When all of a person's sches, all of his ambitions, all of his hopes turn to dust overnight.
When he personally pushes the Family he has protected his entire life into an abyss of eternal damnation.
Death, perhaps, was his best release.
This old man, who had plotted for half his life and manipulated hearts, ultimately fell into the grave he had dug with his own hands.
Pitiable, lantable.
But not worthy of sympathy.
In Zhou Huai's mind, Zhou Ting's crazed, regretful appearance from yesterday uncontrollably surfaced.
Did he truly regret it?
Perhaps.
But what he regretted, he feared, was not his act of inviting a wolf into the house and colluding with the enemy to betray the country.
What he regretted was rely choosing the wrong side, betting on the wrong horse, and ultimately losing everything.
From beginning to end, this old man's eyes only saw the interests of the Zhou Family.
The greater good of the country, in his eyes, was rely a bargaining chip that could be discarded at any ti.
Zhou Huai pulled his thoughts back, no longer thinking about the old man who had already turned to dust.
He waved his hand at Butler Fu beside him.
“I’m tired; I need to rest.”
“Unless it's urgent, don’t let anyone disturb .”
Butler Fu's aged face was filled with worry, but he dared not ask more.
“Alright, Young Master, please rest well.”
He bowed respectfully, then quietly exited the room, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.
Silence returned to the room.
Zhou Huai then slowly leaned back against the headboard and quietly closed his eyes.
His consciousness sank into an boundless darkness, then suddenly ignited in another body... Gandalf opened his eyes.
What greeted his sight was a luxurious and elegant chandelier on the ceiling.
He was currently in an Advanced villa area controlled by the Imperial Capital's Military Departnt.
Outside the window was a ticulously manicured lawn.
On the lawn, guards were stationed every few steps.
Military Departnt soldiers in black exoskeleton armor stood at attention, their eyes vigilantly scanning every corner of the surroundings.
In the air, several powerful Formations, invisible to the naked eye, wove into a net, like a giant energy shield, enveloping the entire villa impenetrably.
Zhou Huai could feel that there were even hidden Advanced professionals lurking on the periphery.
The Military Departnt now clearly regarded him as a national treasure-level key protection target.
They were terrified that so clueless assassin might harbor ill intentions towards him again.
Zhou Huai found it sowhat amusing.
They didn't know.
Those who harbored murderous intent towards this Clone of his had mostly been killed by him already.
Just then, there was a gentle knock on the door.
“Co in.”
Zhou Huai, controlling Gandalf, spoke calmly.
The door opened, and General Chen Huaishuo walked in.
His refined face carried a hint of unconcealed fatigue, with faint dark circles under his eyes.
Clearly, the series of murders that had occurred in the Imperial Capital these past few days had caused this Old General, who was responsible for internal affairs of the Military Departnt, imnse worry.
Chen Huaishuo's gaze fell on Gandalf, his expression sowhat complex.
He paused, then spoke in a deep voice.
“Marshal Zhao has returned.”
“He wants to see you.”
Zhou Huai heard this, and there was no surprise on his face.
He nodded calmly.
“Alright.”
In the past few days, the Imperial Capital had already been filled with rumors and widespread panic.
Aside from the annihilated Liu Family.
At least three hundred Military Departnt personnel, with nas and ranks, had died at his hands.
Most of these people were killed through Moria's stealth assassinations and Caesar's swarm attacks.
The Military Departnt couldn't even catch a glimpse of the culprit.
So many Military Departnt personnel being assassinated in quick succession within a short period was like punching a huge hole in the Great Xia Country's sky.
The entire Military Departnt, from top to bottom, was shrouded in a cloud of panic and anger.
At this ti, Marshal Marshal Zhao, who had just gone to the border of Chaohan City to deal with friction, had to end his mission early and rush back.
The first thing he did upon his return was to see Gandalf.
Zhou Huai naturally understood.
The other party must have already guessed that he was behind all of this.
The reason for allowing Gandalf to return to the Military Departnt and accept so-called “protection” was part of his plan.
This Clone was the spokesman he pushed to the forefront... Soon, under Chen Huaishuo’s personal escort, Gandalf returned to the familiar Marshal’s office.
The office was filled with smoke.
The ashtray was already overflowing with cigarette butts.
Marshal Zhao sat behind the large desk, his face ashen, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.
His eyes, usually as deep as the starry sky, were now bloodshot and terrifying, like a thoroughly enraged lion.
Seeing Gandalf enter, he rely lifted his eyelids.
Then, he casually waved his hand at Chen Huaishuo, who was standing nearby.
“You may leave first.”
“Yes, Marshal.”
Chen Huaishuo dared not say more, bowed respectfully, and turned to exit the office.
The heavy solid wood door slowly closed behind him, separating the two worlds.
Marshal Zhao did not speak.
He simply stood up, walked slowly to the large floor-to-ceiling window, and stood with his hands behind his back.
Outside the window was the prosperous night view of the Imperial Capital, with countless lights twinkling like a river of stars.
Yet, his back exuded an indescribable desolation and loneliness.
Zhou Huai also remained silent.
After a long while.
Marshal Zhao finally turned around slowly.
His gaze fell on Gandalf, calm, profound, without a single ripple.
As if he wanted to see through the Soul beneath this body.
“Three hundred and twenty-seven people.”
The old man spoke hoarsely, his voice devoid of discernible emotion.
“Within three days, inside and outside the Imperial Capital, from top to bottom of the Military Departnt, a total of three hundred and twenty-seven generals died.”
“The Liu Family, every single mber, two hundred and forty-three lives, not even a chicken or dog left alive.”
He walked step by step, slowly approaching Gandalf.
The oppressive aura, heavy as a mountain, surged towards them.
An ordinary professional under this pressure would likely have their legs turn to jelly and collapse to the ground.
But Gandalf, controlled by Zhou Huai, remained ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) upright and unflinching.
He stopped, standing no more than three feet from Gandalf.
His deep, tiger-like eyes stared intently at him, every word squeezed out through gritted teeth.
“All of this, was it your doing?”
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