Zhou Fan and Situ Xin, along with Li Xing and Li Yue, boarded a flight to Paris. Feng Shen did not come with them.
"Brother Fan, were the things I said before we left a little too harsh? If I hadn't said anything, I'm sure Feng Shen would have figured it out on his own eventually."
On the plane, Situ Xin nestled against Zhou Fan's shoulder, whispering softly. She felt a slight pang of regret for what she'd said to Feng Shen.
"Under normal circumstances, he would have figured it out himself given enough time. But this is different. It's a wound from the depths of his soul, one that's become his personal nightmare. With Yalei gone... even though he already killed his enemy with his own hands, killing the person responsible doesn't bring someone back to life. It doesn't get rid of the longing or the guilt, either."
