He asked the same question that Muo Huangnian had just asked—
You are Muo Huangnian, then who am I?
"Mr. Mo, you are Mo Shiche," Muo Huangnian looked at him, his eyes devoid of any lies, extremely clear and pure, "You have always been Mo Shiche; otherwise, do you think you are me?"
You are Mo Shiche.
You have always been Mo Shiche.
Mo Shiche seemed to be rooted to the spot by these two sentences, and suddenly he didn't move anymore, every inch of his body stiff, except for a pair of black pupils which surged like a tsunami, stirring up huge waves.
Even the hand that was gripping him had become stiff, and it became difficult to bend his knuckles.
It was as if a large hand was clutching his throat, making it impossible to breathe in or out; his heart within his chest was beating erratically, completely losing its normal rhythm.
He didn't even turn to look at Luo Qiangwei behind him, not knowing whether he had forgotten or... not knowing what expression to use.
