Without answering the question, Henry York pulled a cigar from the brass tube in his coat, bit off one end roughly, and lit it with a lighter.

　　In the faint, flickering light of the cigar, he let out a hoarse laugh. “Heh heh, who else could be in possession of the ‘Blade of Lamentation’? Of course, it’s your ‘predecessor’!”

　　Sam Clark’s bandaging movements suddenly paused, his eyes filled with fear. “Impossible, that Odin’s sworn follower is actually…”

　　“That’s right.” Henry York looked toward the direction where the shadow had disappeared, smiling complicatedly. “If I am ‘虎彻’, then that guy was once the ‘鬼切’.”

　　……

　　When William Carter woke from his faint, it was five thirty in the morning. His head throbbed so badly it felt like it would split open, and he couldn’t even manage to fall back asleep.

　　Staring blankly at the alarm clock beside him, it took him a long time to realize he’d only slept for five hours.

　　A result he could usually figure out without thinking now took him three minutes to work out, thanks in part to just waking up and not being fully alert, but mostly because his mental energy had been depleted to its absolute limit.

　　A night’s rest hadn’t eased his physical pain at all; if anything, it seemed to have gotten worse.

　　Every bone and muscle ached with every movement, and the bedsheet beneath him was already dotted with red stains from pooled blood.

　　All the hidden injuries lurking in his body seemed to have surfaced overnight, flaring up at once, and all William Carter could feel was excruciating pain.

　　At this moment, every cell in his body was frantically sending out signals of ‘hunger’. He even felt like he could eat a whole bear.

　　Rubbing his face with difficulty, William Carter mumbled indistinctly, “Damn, new life is so painful…”

　　Grumbling, he struggled to get out of bed, scratching his messy hair as he started to get dressed.

　　In reality, all he did was grab a new jacket from the wardrobe—he hadn’t even managed to finish undressing the night before.

　　He honestly wanted to just lie in bed and play dead, but unfortunately, he had a ton of things that had to be done before the afternoon.

　　Luckily, he didn’t have a habit of sleeping in. During his years at university, it was common for him to get up before dawn to hit the library.

　　But this was the first time getting up had been so painful.

　　It wasn’t until he splashed his face with cold water that he looked a little less disheveled.

　　Staring blankly at the pale-faced man in the mirror, William Carter shook his toothbrush helplessly, gritting his teeth through the stinging, pulling pain as he brushed.

　　Fortunately, that strange ‘bullet time’ state hadn’t left him with any abnormalities—no fangs growing out, no weird scales, or any organs a normal person shouldn’t have.

　　The only change was a faint ring of blue light in his pupils, barely noticeable unless you looked very closely.

　　‘Life Mark.’

　　William Carter inexplicably thought of this word he’d never heard before, but instinctively felt it carried some indescribable strangeness.

　　He thought about it for a long time but couldn’t figure it out, and accidentally got toothpaste foam into his windpipe, making his lungs ache from coughing.

　　In short, another unlucky day began with unlucky tooth brushing and face washing.

　　After washing up, he lit two sticks of incense for his parents in the spirit shrine and changed the candles.

　　Watching the curling blue smoke rise, he shook his head after a moment’s thought, deciding not to dwell on unpleasant things, and started preparing breakfast.

　　Do you know what the most painful thing in the world is?

　　At this moment, William Carter felt it deeply.

　　The most painful thing in the world isn’t what those bastards in the dorm say—‘going to class’, nor is it ‘failing classes even though you go every day’, but being so hungry you’re about to go crazy, yet staring at a fridge full of food you can’t eat…

　　Because he was about to go to the hospital for a physical exam.

　　Looking at the rice in the fridge, William Carter’s expression was so dramatic, his mood so complicated, that words couldn’t describe it.

　　Gritting his teeth, he picked out two carrots and some steamed buns, giving the fridge one last longing look before resolutely closing the door to stop himself from lunging at it.

　　The moment he turned away, he felt like he could burst into tears.

　　He quickly stir-fried some shredded carrots, reheated the buns, and made some porridge.

　　Smelling the aroma of food, William Carter’s expression was as tortured as if he were being put through cruel punishment. Every time he remembered he couldn’t eat, he was heartbroken.

　　But it was just a little hunger, it wouldn’t kill him—comforting himself this way, he gave the steaming pot one last reluctant look and walked out of the kitchen.

　　Since he couldn’t eat, breakfast was obviously for someone else.

　　It was exactly 6:15. He wiped his hands and prepared for the next big task: waking up a certain little girl who loved to sleep in.

　　Alarm clocks never worked on Ethan Lane. Every morning, it used to take her mother more than ten minutes to get her up.

　　Even then, she’d still be bleary-eyed, making it impossible for anyone.

　　After her mother passed away, this tough job finally fell to him.

　　Standing outside the door, he knocked gently. “Ethan Lane, time to get up.”