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... ozone and ash. A cacophony of gunfire, static, and distorted screams rang in his ears. He lay on shattered glass—glass that showed flickering reflections of a hundred versions of himself.

He saw Lucian dying—screaming as echoes pulled him into a collapsing Rift.

Then himself, bleeding out on a battlefield of bones.

Then neither of them. Just an empty, broken world under a dead sky.

"Rowan," Haru's voice cut through the fog, breathless and sharp. "Stay with me." < ...

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On a winter afternoon, Hu Lai showed reporters from all over the world the honor he had just received, and some reporters asked him such questions.

Facing the eyes cast by the reporters, Hu Lai’s thoughts returned to the afternoon when he was in high school. He stood alone beside the stadium to watch other students play games. They did not let him play, thinking he was here to make trouble.

He also thought of what the coach said to him with a straight face: “Hu Lai, if you can’t pay ten times the effort of others, your talent is just worthless stones.” And a disdainful voice: “Modern football The demands on the center are getting higher and more comprehensive. What’s the use of shooting only? ”

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Hu Lai stared at the girl’s eyes, and saw the sunset behind him from those eyes.

The sunlight is reflected in the pupils, flowing, burning, condensing into a halo, as if to melt yourself in this light.

Hu Lai, who withdrew his thoughts, returned to this warm winter afternoon, facing the excited reporters, he smiled slightly: “Because I know, the goal is there.”

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