Outside the window, a fine drizzle fell.

Slanting threads of rain beat against the glass, merging into streams that meandered downward, blurring the world outside the window.

Zhou Huai sat in a wheelchair, his gaze falling upon the black-covered notebook spread open on the desk.

It was densely recorded with names one after another.

More than half of them had been crossed out with ruthless red crosses.

"Thump, thump."

The knock on the door was very light.

Uncle Fu pushed the door open and entered, his footsteps also kept very light, as if afraid of disturbing something.

He walked behind Zhou Huai, hesitating to speak.

Zhou Huai did not look back, his voice calm.

"Speak."

Uncle Fu's body bowed slightly, his voice carrying a trace of thinly veiled sorrow.

"Young Master... The Master has... passed away."

Zhou Huai's hand holding the fountain pen did not pause in the slightest.

Once again, he drew a neat and decisive cross over a name.

After finishing all this, he slowly closed the notebook and responded with an indifferent tone.

"I know."

Uncle Fu looked at Zhou Huai's profile, which was as calm as calm could be without a single ripple, opened his mouth, and ultimately turned it into a helpless sigh.

In the end, the Young Master still hadn't forgiven the Master.

Zhou Huai turned his wheelchair, facing the world shrouded by the rain curtain outside the window.

Zhou Ting's death did not surprise him.

When a person's every plan, every ambition, and every hope turned into a bubble overnight.

When he personally pushed the Clan he had guarded for a lifetime into an abyss of eternal damnation.

Death perhaps was his best release.

This old man had schemed for half his life and calculated human hearts, only to finally fall into the grave he had dug with his own hands.

Pitiful, lamentable.

Yet not worthy of sympathy.

In Zhou Huai's mind, Zhou Ting's frantic and remorseful appearance from yesterday uncontrollably surfaced.

Did he truly regret it?

Perhaps.

But what he regretted was probably not his actions of inviting a wolf into the house and committing treason.

What he regretted was merely that he stood on the wrong side and bet on the wrong treasure, ultimately ending up in a complete loss.

From beginning to end, in this old man's eyes, there were only the interests of the Zhou Family.

The righteousness of home and country was, in his eyes, nothing more than chips that could be discarded at any time.

Zhou Huai withdrew his thoughts and no longer thought about the old man who had already turned into dust.

He waved his hand at Uncle Fu beside him.

"I'm tired and need to rest for a bit."

"Unless something major happens, don't let anyone come in to disturb me."

Uncle Fu's aged face was filled with worry, yet he dared not ask more.

"Understood, Young Master, please rest well."

He bowed in salute, stepped lightly out of the room, and considerately closed the door.

The room returned to silence.

Only then did Zhou Huai slowly lean against the head of the bed, silently closing his eyes.

His consciousness sank into an endless darkness, and then suddenly lit up within another body.

...

Gandalf opened his eyes.

What came into view was a luxurious and elegant ceiling chandelier.

He was currently in an Advanced villa area controlled by the Imperial Capital Military Department.

Outside the window was a meticulously manicured lawn.

On the lawn, there was a post every three steps and a sentry every five steps.

Military Department soldiers wearing black exoskeleton armor stood at attention with rifles, their vigilant eyes scanning every corner around them.

In the air, several invisible powerful Formation fluctuations intertwined into a net, like a huge energy shield, shrouding the entire villa airtight.

Zhou Huai could feel that there were even skilled hidden Classer lurking on the outer perimeter.

The Military Department now clearly regarded him as a national treasure-level priority protection target.

For fear that another blind assassin would harbor malicious intentions against him.

Zhou Huai felt somewhat amused in his heart.

They did not know.

Those people who could develop the intent to kill his Avatar had basically been mostly killed off by him.

Right at this moment, the room door was gently knocked.

"Please come in."

Zhou Huai manipulated Gandalf, his voice calm.

The door pushed open, and General Chen Huaishu walked in.

On his refined face, there was a trace of undisguised exhaustion, with faint dark circles under his eye sockets.

Clearly, the serial murders that had occurred in the Imperial Capital over the past few days had worn out this Old General in charge of internal affairs of the Military Department.

Chen Huaishu's gaze fell upon Gandalf, his expression somewhat complex.

He paused for a moment before speaking in a deep voice.

"Marshal Zhao has returned."

"He wants to see you."

Hearing this, Zhou Huai showed not the slightest surprise on his face.

He calmly nodded.

"Alright."

Over the past few days, the Imperial Capital had long been jittery and panic-stricken.

Except for the Liu Clan whose clan was exterminated.

The Military Department personnel who died at his hands, those with names and surnames, numbered at least over three hundred.

Most of these people relied on Moria's stealth assassinations and Caesar's insect swarm surprise attacks.

The Military Department couldn't even touch the shadow of the killer.

So many Military Department personnel being successively assassinated in a short period of time simply poked a huge hole in the sky of Great Xia Nation.

The entire upper and lower levels of the Military Department were shrouded in a gloomy cloud of panic and anger.

At this time, Zhao Qingcang, who had just headed to the Chaohan City border to handle friction, had to end his mission early and rush back at lightning speed.

The very first thing he did upon returning was to see Gandalf.

Zhou Huai naturally understood.

The other party must have already guessed that all of this was done by him.

The reason he let Gandalf return to the Military Department to accept so-called "protection".

Was inherently a part of his plan.

This Avatar was the spokesperson he pushed onto the stage.

...

Soon, under the personal leadership of Chen Huaishu, Gandalf returned to that familiar Marshal's office.

Inside the office, smoke billowed.

In the ashtray, cigarette butts had long been piled high.

Zhao Qingcang sat behind that wide desk, his face sinking like water, his gaze uncertain.

His pair of eyes, which were usually as deep as a starry sky, were now covered with horrifying bloodshot veins, like a completely enraged male lion.

Seeing Gandalf enter, he merely lifted his eyelids.

Then he casually waved at Chen Huaishu to the side.

"You go out first."

"Yes, Marshal."

Chen Huaishu dared not say more, respectfully bowed in salute, and turned to exit the office.

The heavy solid wood door slowly closed behind him, isolating them into two worlds.

Zhao Qingcang did not speak.

He merely stood up, walked slowly to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, and stood with his hands behind his back.

Outside the window was the bustling night view of the Imperial Capital, with thousands of household lights as brilliant as the Milky Way.

Yet his back revealed an indescribable desolation and loneliness.

Zhou Huai likewise maintained silence.

For a long time.

Zhao Qingcang finally turned around slowly.

His gaze fell upon Gandalf, calm, deep, without a single ripple.

As if wanting to completely see through the soul beneath this shell.

"Three hundred and twenty-seven people."

The old man spoke hoarsely, with neither joy nor anger audible in his voice.

"Within three days, inside and outside the Imperial Capital, from top to bottom in the Military Department, a total of three hundred and twenty-seven generals died."

"The Liu Clan, from top to bottom, two hundred and forty-three mouths, not a single chicken or dog left behind."

Step by step, he slowly walked up to Gandalf.

That mountain-like heavy coercion surged straight towards him.

Ordinary Classer under this coercion would probably have long had weak legs and knelt on the ground.

Yet Gandalf, manipulated by Zhou Huai, still maintained a straight figure without changing expression.

He stopped his footsteps, only three feet away from Gandalf.

That pair of deep tiger eyes stared fixedly at him, every word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth.

"Did you do all this?"