My mom is waiting for treatment, and you're summoning me to be a hero?

The light curtain slowly unfolded in the air.

The light screen showed an ordinary living room, nothing out of the ordinary.

Zhou Xiaomei sat on the sofa.

Her hair was a bit whiter than before, but she looked much better.

She was holding a half-knitted sweater in her hand; the yarn was dark gray, and the stitches were fine and neat.

She would knit a few stitches, then stop to watch TV, before lowering her head to continue knitting.

Lin Feng walked out of the kitchen, wearing the plaid apron he had used for almost ten years around his waist, and carrying a bowl of freshly served pork rib soup.

He placed the soup bowl on the coffee table, wiped his hands with his apron, then sat down next to Zhou Xiaomei, picked up the remote, and turned the TV volume down by one notch.

"Don't stay up too late, the doctor said you need to rest more."

Zhou Xiaomei didn't even look up; the knitting needles in her hands were still flying up and down.

"I know, I know. I wonder if it's cold where Xiao Mo is in winter. That child has never liked wearing thick clothes since she was little."

Lin Feng paused for a moment, then smiled.

Just then, the liquid in the thermos on the table slowly flowed and eventually overflowed.

Zhou Xiaomei's eyes lit up: "It's medicine that Xiao Mo sent."

Lin Feng nodded: "It seems our son is alright over there."

But as he looked at the glass of water, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothed out considerably.

Zhou Xiaomei put down her knitting needles, glanced at the glass of water, and a very faint smile appeared on her lips.

After the TV news broadcast ended, Zhou Xiaomei put away her knitting needles and carefully folded the half-finished sweater, placing it on the sofa armrest.

Lin Feng helped her slowly walk into the bedroom. The bedroom light was on for a short while, and then it went out.

But Lin Mo still couldn't bear to look away, staring intently at the empty room.

……

Spirit world.

The divine messenger knelt before the Twilight Stone Throne, his forehead pressed against the cold stone surface. He hesitated for a long time before speaking in a low voice.

"My Lord, armies of all races are gathering at the Holy Tower Kingdom. Elves, dwarves, vampires, orcs, goblins—and the main force of the Human Empire. The combined army is estimated to exceed five hundred thousand. The Holy Tower Kingdom is likely..."

He didn't finish his sentence.

Because the moment he looked up, he saw a scene he had never witnessed in all the hundreds of years he had served the gods.

Gao Yang sat cross-legged in front of the light screen, and with a gentle swipe of his finger in the air, he turned the light screen off.

His eyes were red-rimmed, and there were two very faint wet streaks below the corners of his eyes.

The gods are weeping.

If it weren't for the flash of light that illuminated his face the instant the light curtain closed, the divine messenger would never have noticed.

The messenger abruptly lowered his head, his forehead pressed back against the stone surface, his heart pounding as if it were about to leap out of his throat.

He had served the gods for hundreds of years, and had seen them indifferent as ice, furious as thunder, and issued the most cruel commands in the most indifferent tone.

But the gods are crying... This is a scene he dares not even dream of.

He suddenly realized that he shouldn't have looked up, or even come to ask for instructions.

Gao Yang did not wipe the tear stains from her face.

He simply sat quietly in the void, letting the two wet streaks on his cheeks slowly dry.

His voice remained flat, no different from before.

"Okay. Let him be."

"But the Vatican has been operating for thousands of years..."

The messenger wanted to say something more, but the moment he opened his mouth, he realized that he had made a fatal mistake.

Gao Yang said, "Let it be," meaning that the matter no longer needed to be discussed.

He said one more word, which was questioning the decision of the gods.

He pressed his forehead back against the stone surface, lowering his voice to a minimum.

"Your subordinate takes his leave."

The footsteps of the divine messenger disappeared behind the stone gate, and Gao Yang remained seated cross-legged in the void.

He looked down at his hands... the right hand that tore through space, the right hand that had killed countless demigods, the right hand that had done everything to resurrect his sister.

His fingers were trembling slightly, not from anger, not from sadness, but simply because Lin Mo's words were still echoing in his mind.

"Your sister is dead."

He was right.

Tian Tian is dead.

No matter how many gods he imprisoned, no matter how many laws he refined, no matter how far he deduced the laws of time... she died.

Once someone is dead, they are dead.

"Once my laws of time are complete, the future of this world... will be none of my concern."

His voice was so soft that it didn't even echo in the boundless, dark void.

After saying this, he closed his eyes and let his consciousness sink back into that place that was deeper than darkness.

Hidden there is a fragment of a soul, a little girl's soul fragment, enveloped by layers of protective laws.

……

The sky gradually brightened.

wilderness.

The earth was trembling.

It wasn't an earthquake, nor was it a monster migration; it was the resonance created by hundreds of thousands of feet simultaneously treading on the hard earth of the wasteland.

From the air, several huge marching columns can be seen crossing the wasteland from different directions.

Their goal is the same: Sesterburg, a border fortress of the Holy Tower Kingdom.

At this moment, Stetburgh was enveloped in a thick layer of golden holy light.

The holy light burst forth from the top of the Holy Light Tower in the center of the fortress, flowing down along the outline of the city wall, enveloping the entire fortress in a golden amber.

Every brick in the city wall glowed faintly under the holy light, and fine holy runes could be vaguely seen flowing between the brick seams.

Clearly, the Holy Kingdom of the Tower has also made preparations for battle.