"Huh..."
Qin Mo suddenly sat up from the bed, his chest heaving violently, and his forehead was covered with cold sweat.
He was breathing heavily, like a fish thrown ashore.
Alive?
I'm alive?
He subconsciously touched his chest, which was smooth and there was no scary hole that penetrated his entire body. He touched his face again, feeling warm and full of life.
Not an illusion.
The surrounding environment is both familiar and unfamiliar.
There was a simple single bed, next to a wooden desk with peeling paint, and an old laptop on the table. There is a poster of a basketball star on the wall, which is already a little yellowed.
This is... The small single room I rented in the suburbs of Beijing after graduating from college?
Qin Mo's brain was buzzing, and countless chaotic memory fragments were running rampant inside, finally settling on the tragic decisive battle at the top of Kunlun Mountain.
America's "space-based divine punishment" is like the whip of God, tearing apart the sky.
Russia's "Ice Holy Spirit" turned into a giant, breathing cold air that could freeze the soul.
And as the last "gatekeeper" of China, after exhausting the last trace of his original power, he chose the most heroic method, detonating himself and dying together with the two destructive beings.
The heart-rending pain and the soul-destroying despair were still clearly imprinted in the depths of his soul.
But now...
