"Cough—can we reconcile?"
In the Garbage Disposal Plant's office, a man in a white lab coat crawled on the ground, his bending right hand as dry as straw, the veins clearly visible on the back of his hand.
This senior human artist no longer possessed his usual composure and grace; at this moment, each breath he took depleted his strength, making it clear to him that his life was slowly ebbing away.
He could feel his body aging rapidly, and everything was due to the person before him.
"I have money, lots and lots of money, just let me return to my original form…"
"Why were you looking for Lu Xiang?"
Song Lan ignored the man's bargaining and asked.
"Would telling you save my life?"
The man hastily asked.
"No, although this won't save your life, it could make your journey to the underworld easier. Scarface should not have gone far; if you leave now, you could accompany him."
"Go, go to hell! The Brotherhood will not let you off!"
