"Ahem—"

In the cabin, the coughing sound continued to be repeated, like a dilapidated stove bellows, constantly pulling.

The lights flickered, and the man in the hospital bed looked like he was only in his thirties, but his lungs looked like they were in their seventies and eighties.

lungs, less than forty years of detours.

"I know I'm dying."

In front of Luden's bed, sat Albert.

Ah Wu was actually in this cabin, but he couldn't bear to look at Luden's dying appearance, and at the moment he turned his back to the bed and looked out the window.

Ludon picked up the spray he had at hand and took a sip, apparently much more comfortable.

It's just that the effect of this medicine on him is getting weaker and weaker.

"Many people think that I am waiting for the old king to die, as long as I boil him to death, I can return to the fog capital."

Ludon struggled to sit up, with Albert's help, with two pillows behind his back,

"Few people know that my physical condition is not as good as that old guy."

Ludon has always known that he is not a long-lived man.

This is true in Qiyun, it is true in the Divine State, and it is also true in the fog.

What's more, compared with the previous simulations, the environment of the fog is much harsher and more unfriendly to the lungs.

After the Eternals left, Luton made a neat cut in the confrontation with the old king, and retreated south to avoid the edge.

In itself, it is also for the sake of one's own body.

If he stayed in Wudu, he wouldn't even be able to survive to this day.

Even if there is no killer and nothing to interfere with, Luden's natural lifespan is almost over.

The old king had not thought of this before, and in front of him, Ludon had always been alive and well.

No one can guess.

In the Kingdom of God, Ludon was 'killed' to death.

Even the most authentic historical information will not record Luden's physical condition, let alone tell future generations that in fact, before he was killed, Luden was almost dead.

The only person other than the Eternals who knew about this was Lord Grued of the Palace of Greed.

And the inheritance of greed is in the hands of the Secretary-General.

The Secretary General was also the closest ally and supporter of the old king.

I don't know for what reason, the only secretary general who may know this secret, actually chose to keep it secret!

Before he died, the old king may have come back to his senses.

He suddenly understood that not only did Ludon want to survive himself, but he could also survive Ludon!

The reason is simple.

The old king was really dying.

But Luton was somewhat quietly excessive!

This kind of quietness is not at all in line with Luden's style of acting.

In any chance to make trouble or die, Ludon will not miss it, unless. His life was also coming to an end, and he couldn't support his distraction1

It's a pity that the old king understood too late.

By the time his order was given, Ludon had already boarded the ship and embarked on a round-the-world journey.

The only thing that is certain is that by the time the ship docked again on the shore, the old king was probably dead.

"People always like new things."

Ludon raised his eyelids, and although he looked tired, he spoke steadily,

"Because the old always has regrets, and the 'new' seems to make up for all the regrets. A new day, a new week, a new month, a new semester, a new year. Only by starting over does it seem that there is a chance and motivation for change ahem"

Albert sat on the edge of the bed, watching Ludon and remembering his words.

"Actually, people are just deceiving themselves and reassuring themselves that there won't be much difference between something new and something old."

Luton seemed to want to raise his hand, but he didn't finish it.

He continued,

"For me, the Divine State is the new Qiyun, the mistakes made and the wrong things done in the Qiyun seem to be made up for in the Divine State, today's fog capital, although it is slower, but compared with the past, it is more stable to go."

After a cough, Ludon continued,

"But how far and how long you can go is not up to me, not to you, and not to anyone."

Hearing this, Albert was a little touched and nodded slightly.

He had heard similar remarks from his friend.

"If you want to choose a new country, do more with fewer constraints, maybe do it a little faster and more conveniently."

Apparently, Ludon knew what Albert wanted to do during this time.

Today's dialogue is not didactic.

It's just a suggestion from a passer-by, to a friend.

"You can do it, to be precise, and do it boldly."

A smile appeared on Luden's face, as if the vitality of life had returned to him at this moment,

"Don't be afraid, the sky won't break it."

To believe in human beings is to believe in yourself.

Albert can give it a go, and if in some areas, he is improving, then he will show his worth.

If he is not progressive, then there will be something progressive to replace him.

Don't be afraid to be wrong.

Everybody makes mistakes, whether it's Ludon, or the Empress, Ponge

The success or failure of an individual does not have a great impact on history.

After talking to Albert, Ludon struggled to his feet, walked out of the room, and walked towards the deck.

People followed him, not knowing what he was going to do, and not daring to stop him.

Ludon bracked himself up, walked over to the railing, and looked at the drawings on the drawing board.

"The seagull is well drawn."

The painter sitting in front of the drawing board has half of his ears missing, and although his eyes are melancholy, they are still a little vibrant, occasionally flashing with emotions called happiness.

It's hard to imagine that such a person's paintings sold for sky-high prices in the fog.

When he saw Ludon coming, he turned sideways and nodded, not knowing what to say.

If he hadn't met Mr. Ludon, he might have gone on a different ending, who knows.

He was grateful to Luden, but he didn't know how to put it into action or words.

Ludon laughed, laughing and coughing.

He grasped the railing with one hand, and with the other he held a handkerchief in front of his mouth, and his back was arched like a shrimp with consequences.

Ludon didn't cough much, but there were a lot of red spots on his handkerchief.

The painter got up in a hurry, and was in a bit of a hurry, not knowing whether to help Ludon or call the doctor first.

Fortunately, Todd and Hannibal arrived just in time to put Ludon back in his wheelchair and take out the potion.

The cough subsided, and Luden's expression was full of exhaustion.

Before being pushed back into the cabin to rest, Ludon spoke again, the corners of his mouth slightly raised, and he said weakly,

"Get them some fries."

"What?"

The people around him apparently didn't understand too much, and Hannibal reminded,

"Mr. Luden, in your current physical condition, it is impossible for you to eat French fries."

Only the painter, sitting in front of the drawing board, looking at his unfinished work, seagulls soaring in the sky.

He picked up the paintbrush, re-entered the world of selflessness, and began to create.

This time it's simple.

Get them some fries.

(End of chapter)