Van Oulin heard it like falling into a fog, and only the word "Situ" could not be easily ignored.

Why, in addition to reporting the death, what else does Hongyu Tadaan Situ have to explain?

She takes the safest neutral question.

"I don't know what she sent..."

Orsha's middle index finger arched into a hairpin halberd cross posture, instantly breaking the satin-clothed object on the tray, forming a six-pointed star threshold up and down in the south, east, north, west, and north.

With a pinching of her fingers, she stepped forward to grasp Van Olin's palm, sending in an unformed slice of regenerated salt, and a rare affection.

"It's impossible not to recognize this thing—aside from Lan Serge's sword and necklace, the only thing that hasn't been digested by the living machine that she's strayed into. What you want to do with it, it's up to you. ”

******************

On the way back to Ryan's mansion, Van Oelin pinched the peach-lustred isolation seal in her palm, and more than once, she seriously considered throwing the completely meaningless relic into the convenient nuclear furnace that could be found everywhere on every optical and magnetic spiral sliding path.

More than many times, the sleepy inexplicable sinus rippled in her closed high-sensitivity area, a super force field of "allopathy". The remnants of grief were like a rancid layer of transparent fruit pulp, covering her five senses with an invisible sticking force.

This is a difficult situation that cannot be missed or forgotten, for a mindful submersible like her, if she is not careful, she may even internalize the overnight dust on the surface of the Changing Star that is a billion light-years away, into the lingering dirt in her own epidermis, not to mention her own fishy experience.

Memories that cannot be processed are more difficult to bear than the duties and a kind of torture.

Back home, without saying a word, she rushed into the north building, where she hadn't set foot for many years. At the top of the snow-white spike tower with heavy locks after her mother's death, she slumped into a corpse scattered everywhere, frantically searching for something, which had crumbled all the barriers in her force field, but miraculously saved herself from almost being destroyed.

The single-bloodline of the "Holy Witch of the Nichinson" clearly does not allow the penetration of any heterogeneous genetic information. Long before the establishment of the Multistar Federation, they had inherited the unbreakable Spiegel Butterfly Flame since ancient times, and manipulated the rise and fall of the five capital star clusters.

The monophyravic monophasic pure-blooded gene, through the random number changes stored and accumulated in each generation, creates a natural and vast ancient "total incarnation" for the next generation that reproduces on its own.

Until her mother's unforgivable act, each generation of the Nigginson Holy Witch was pure and unblemished, with a body as clear as a jewel that sealed tens of thousands of years of generational memory, as well as every trace of will and person.

She is herself and her own maternal line, like a royal crystal phoenix that feathers into dust every hundred years and then soars from its ashes.

Until her mother, Cyril Ryan, poured the deepest and most obscure essence blood of the Super Empire into herself, giving birth to her, an exception who was entangled in sulfur and obsidian, mixed with the original sworn to be incompatible with the two magical bloodlines.

In an almost violent posture, she rummaged through the cabinets, pulled out old items that quickly powdered in the palm of her hand, and finally searched for the hand-embroidered chip box that left the sorrow of the maker.

The graphics embroidered on the surface of the box, a little bit of residual blood, are not at all a dozen standard galactic years are enough to erase. At that time and place, her mother and her "half-father" who she could not recognize to her bloodline exchanged fire and smoke with a comprehensible force field of empathy, and the joy of breaking the ban.

After ten months of continuous fire, Cyril sewed silk thread from the blood of the umbilical cord of a newborn baby into an object that is said to have been used in ancient times to celebrate the birth of life.

Affection hotter than tears crossed the crumbling fence and ran into front and back of her uncontrollable body.

The chip that was once Lan Serqi's original was already crushed by her one hand, and once the excess power that had been sealed for too long was out of the box, it would have to cut through the moat embankment of enough weight and make the waves of the madman smile heartily before she could stop.

Otherwise, the power of devouring each other in her body in the form of mutual bites had to be loaded with the twin body of the Holy Witch and the Black Magician, herself, as the base of the reaction force.

The seamless defensive force field opened a crack in a delicate hairspring, like a retro silk stocking that was threaded, and the messy silk thread pierced her whole body, and her chest was filled with sweet sourness, and endless memories burst out in the blink of an eye.

Her mother's mother's mother, countless Nigginson witches pulled her from all sides, tore her apart, and pierced her promise from childhood to the present day with arrows made of bright pigeons.

Never commit to the call of the obsidian family, and never admit that the god of destruction who imprinted the eye of the god of fire on the center of his eyebrows has any blood connection with her and the master of the Ryan family.

She vaguely remembered meditating at Cyrrell's dead mattress that only the beloved Parasensifier was our killer, and she remembered how she had devised a chiaroscuro strategy.

Let Metis guide her through the violent "Rope of Force", and become her mentor and companion in the abyss; Let Lan Seqi be the cable and roulette wheel of her world, thinking that she has divided her inseparable love.

She actually couldn't love these two people, after all, she confessed so in the pavilion where her mother died.

Van Oelin clutched the hot birthmark on her neck with all her might, and the uneven fluctuations were like a nestling that had knocked over the wool coils, scrambling to scratch at every vacancy she could no longer defend.

Her eyelids are like photoelectric cultivated buds that have lost their power, and they are about to be closed forever without hesitation.

Perhaps, this is the price of her refusal to face herself - finally, she finally broke through the gap between Mingsheng and Obsidian, but she couldn't channel her surging force field.

{Let me come out and help you, kid.} ｝

The soft and cold voice of Tingling cut through her body without any reason.

Silver-blue bordered black power waves, like a cluster of autumn water that had been warmed in advance, burst out from her chest.

It's strange that she was obviously the object she thought she was afraid of, but she made herself so attached to the boundary between life and death, and so dependent.

Her eyelids bounced heavily, and the miniature underworld within the salt-based slice collapsed.

The threads of life returned to her own grasp, through the man she had mistakenly thought was standing in the garden of death and perdition, and was not willing to give her life.

Orsha pursed her lips slightly wistfully in her force field.

Through the communion with her mother's heart, she could no longer be more familiar with it as a child, and it was Orsha's most heart-wrenching expression, even though she always deliberately said cold words that made the other party accuse.

{How could I not want you to be born, even though I could not let you enjoy any warmth.} All I can give is the cold current that dwells in you. ｝

Van Oelin pressed to his heart, unloading all hesitation and fear for the first time.

On the bones of Love, she found her hometown, unable to keep her warm, but able to freeze the resonant field that had been lonely since she was born.

It was part of what she already had, but it was also part of what she had turned her back on.

It was only now that she and Orsha in her body, the "half-father" that she had always refused to acknowledge, had been able to cut through the quicksand bottleneck of each other's long Crane Galaxy, which was like a crane galaxy from birth to death, and passed the growth test unique to the extraterrestrial supersensor.