Once uttered, the long-lost greeting echoed in the farewell hall with the peal of thunder.
Fragrant flowers and flickering candles, everything was solemn as ever, even Lei Wuye lying in the coffin appeared so peaceful.
Yet in an instant, the atmosphere had become tense and explosive.
At this critical juncture, uninvited guests one after another suddenly arrived, accumulating too much pressure and tension from the deadly silence.
When Chen Xingzhou, who should have been lying in a hospital, regally appeared in front of the farewell hall, it was like a spark in a powder keg, unleashing flames and blasts that could no longer be contained.
The sharp sound of chairs scraping was incessant.
In the hall, countless people stood up, looking coldly towards Chen Xingzhou, tense as drawn bows, yet many others stood to look towards Lei Yaoxing.
In the blink of an eye, all the outsiders remained seated in their original places, not uttering a word.