Thales continued pushing the wheelchair subconsciously. His surroundings were muddled by the darkness. Only the figure of the old man in front of him was clear as ever, which made him uneasy.  

Fuck. 

This was the first word that occurred to the youth.

He stared solemnly at Morat in the wheelchair. His hand accidentally touched the black-veined vines, causing the latter to constrict. 

Damn it.  

Even after knowing the truth about mind reading, even after six years of experience, even after thinking that you are well-prepared…

The Black Prophet was still the Black Prophet.  

Even if there was no clue or evidence, he could still trace the smell of deception and lies and smell the truth. 

His father, his grandfather, rulers on the supreme throne, how did they face this wily monster?

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