The sky curtain makes you a useless class monitor, yet you act arbitrarily for eternity?

The old woman's eyes immediately turned red, and she rushed to clench the edge of the isolation pod.

"Grandma will take you back now."

"Grandma will make it for you right away!"

"Let's go home."

"It won't be so hard when I'm home."

The female butler at the door changed her expression and instinctively called out.

"No! Grandma can't..."

Before she could finish speaking, a young man with his face covered suddenly appeared beside her.

The young man raised his hand and pressed down on her shoulder.

The female student majoring in housekeeping trembled in her voice.

"Dr. Lin!"

"There's dark matter inside. If Grandma touches it..."

"Um."

Doctor Lin looked at the old man in the room.

"Her vital energy has been depleted."

"Even if we don't open the isolation pod, we don't have much time left."

The female student majoring in housekeeping stood there, stunned.

"Let her go."

Doctor Lin released his grip.

"To hold my grandson one last time."

The girl from the housekeeping department trembled slightly.

Tears streamed down her face. She gritted her teeth, turned, and shouted into the room:

"grandmother."

"Press the button on the left."

"The isolation chamber can then be opened."

The old woman immediately pressed it down.

"Sizzle—"

The transparent hatch splits open to both sides.

The life counts inside the isolation chamber plummeted simultaneously, and an alarm instantly blared throughout the entire room.

Yan Cong's complexion had become even more ashen, and his open eyes were now just slits.

"Little Bear".

The old woman bent down and put her hands under Yan Cong.

"Let's go home."

The moment her arm touched Yan Cong, the black energy began to frantically penetrate her skin along the point of contact.

The old woman's arms tensed instantly.

The blood vessels under the skin bulged one after another, and the fingers lost sensation.

Her knees buckled, and she nearly collapsed to her knees beside the isolation ward.

But she didn't let go.

She looked down at her grandson in her arms.

Thinking about how he's been lying here all these days, in pain, enduring it all by himself.

Her thin arms managed to steady herself.

She hugged him.

Before he could exert much force, Yan Cong was lifted up.

It's too light.

So light it didn't feel like a person.

The old woman held the painful bone in her hand, and her tears fell even harder.

She lowered her head and gently pressed her face against Yan Cong's forehead.

"go home……"

"Grandma will take you home."

Yan Cong looked at her.

In a daze, the cold light above my head went out.

He saw that sunset from many years ago again.

Grandma accepted the two candies he gave her, picked him up from the ground, and put him on the old tricycle.

She pushed the tricycle as she ran.

He sat in his chair and happily shouted:

"Grandma, faster!"

Grandma laughed and scolded him:

"If you go any faster, Grandma's old bones will fall apart!"

At that time, he patted his chest and said:

"When I grow up, I'll push Grandma in the wheelchair!"

But now.

He has grown up.

He's made something of himself.

In the end, it was his grandmother who came to pick him up.

As Yan Cong's consciousness was fading, his lips moved one last time.

His last words came through the special equipment.

"sorry……"

"grandmother."

"In the end, I still want you to pick me up."

Outside the door, Liang Rumeng sat down against the wall.

She covered her mouth with both hands, but couldn't stop the sobs that escaped her throat.

Old Zhong turned around and punched the wall repeatedly.

The woman in the floral shirt stood beside him, gripping his wrist tightly, while her own body uncontrollably knelt down.

Inside the room, the old woman held Yan Cong and took a step toward the door.

Just one step.

She then fell forward.

Doctor Lin raised his hand to take it.

But he stopped halfway up his hand.

The old woman lay down on the thick blanket.

She was still holding Yan Cong tightly in her arms.

She cradled his head in her arms and covered his back with her hands.

Just like I did many years ago when I put him to sleep.

The machine stopped.

The room fell completely silent.

In the end, Yan Cong never got to eat a single bite of steamed egg custard.

In the end, the old lady was unable to bring the teddy bear home.

The sky curtain did not linger for long.

The screen slowly darkened.

When the lights came on again, it was already the mourning hall inside the base.

There are no state funerals during wartime.

There is no ten-mile-long street.

There were no thousands of people seeing him off.

The only people who saw Yan Cong off were the girls in the base who stayed with him until the end.

And there's Lao Zhong.

Floral shirt.

Liang Rumeng.

And the divine physician Lin who collected his body.

In the center of the mourning hall, two coffins were placed.

On one side was a vermilion coffin.

The lacquer is deep and lustrous, without many patterns.

That was the old lady's coffin.

According to old customs, when an elderly person passes away, a red coffin can be used for a joyous funeral.

On the other side was a black coffin.

The coffin was covered in dark lacquer, and its surface was plain.

There are no carvings.

There was no gold jewelry.

That was Yan Cong's coffin.

The base originally only had time to prepare one original lacquered coffin.

But after the old lady left, there were no elders left in the family, so everyone worked through the night to apply another layer of dark lacquer to Yan Cong.

The two coffins were placed side by side.

Red is on the left.

Black is on the right.

In front of the red coffin, Old Zhong and his floral shirt changed into mourning clothes, holding a soul-guiding banner in their hands.

Their eyes were badly swollen.

Even when the coffins were lifted, the two men still stood very straight.

The auspicious time has arrived.

The sound of suona horns arose.

The tune is a melody of both joy and sorrow.

But halfway through the performance, the mournful cries became uncontrollable.

Old Zhong and the man in the floral shirt walked in front of the red coffin.

One step forward, one step back.

According to etiquette, one's back should not face the red coffin.

The female housekeeper and the female family members of the base, dressed in mourning clothes, followed behind the red coffin, weeping.

The red coffin went out first.

The group slowly walked through the base gate and along the long path adorned with white banners.

The coffin was only lifted again in the courtyard after it had been halfway out of the alley.

This time, it was that black coffin.

Doctor Lin also changed into a plain white mourning dress and stood in front of the black coffin.

Yan Cong had no male heirs left in his family, and no friends left by his side.

Only he could lead the way for Yan Cong on this stretch of road.

Liang Rumeng, dressed in white mourning clothes and carrying Yan Cong's photo frame, followed behind the black coffin.

In the photo frame, Yan Cong is smiling brightly.

It wasn't the withered, aged appearance it later took.

It wasn't that it was tormented by the black mist to the point of being unrecognizable as a human.

It was the boy's smug and arrogant smile when they first met.

Liang Rumeng lowered her head, tears falling onto the glass of the photo frame.

She wiped it with her sleeve.

It wasn't wiped clean.

I wiped it again.

The black coffin procession followed far behind the red coffin procession.

One red.

It was dark.

One ago.

One after.

The paper money scattered everywhere was swept up by the wind.

White paper money drifted over the base's outer wall, across the long street, and towards the still-burning battlefield.

In the sky.

Ai Kun's voice rang out again.

This time, his voice was heavy.

"Yan Cong, the father of all races."

"Holder of the Level 9 Creation System".

"Core supplier for the final battle of the Ancient Dragon Kingdom".

"To exchange the pain of one person for the first batch of anti-black fog resources for the human race."

"His sacrifice enabled the Gulong defense line to survive for another seven days."

"Seven days later."

"Counter-offensive plan launched."

The image freezes on a shower of paper money.

The paper money fell.

It landed on the red coffin.

It also landed on the black coffin.

In the live stream, the chat finally started scrolling again.

The entire screen is filled with only the same sentence.

[To... Ancestor Yan.]