Hao Jian found a corner to smoke, and the restlessness in his heart couldn't settle for a long time, with a persistent fatigue on his face. He had tried desperately to escape this kind of life, but in the end, he always came back here.
He was angry, not because of Cheng Weiwei, but because he saw his own past self in her. He too had once thought about saving the world with his own strength, but later he realized how foolish that idea was.
Hao Jian was angry at himself, frustrated by his powerlessness against this tragic world.
The greater the ability, the greater the responsibility, but he could change nothing, even though he was the God of Death, a name that made the Underworld tremble.
"That Huaxia girl is really beautiful, more beautiful than all the women I've seen in my life."
"Why don't we take turns with that girl, they don't have guns anyway, she should be easy to handle."
