Len Hawthorne woke up.
He immediately stood up, his eyes showing no signs of sleep.
As he turned his head, he met Chloe Stephens' gaze, who was sitting on the sofa.
He smiled discreetly, "I thought Little Chloe had poisoned her big brother to death."
"I told you, you have a tough fate and won't die so easily."
"Everyone eventually dies, and living an immortal life would be too lonely. Big brother can't bear this loneliness. If I can live for a hundred years, I'd be content," Len sat back down, "Little Chloe, how long do you want to live?"
Chloe pursed her lips and closed the book she'd been reading. Her tone was cold, "If you had a thousand years to live, wouldn't you want that?"
Len Hawthorne laughed, "Little Chloe, no matter how high one's cultivation is, they will eventually die. Like the Watsons Family's forefather, the deity of the Godfrey Family, and those old fellows in Dark City, they can only live for two or three hundred years before turning into dust."
