A sharp roar rang out.

Xu Yiran's fierce face suddenly softened and became gentle, as if he could really see me, looking at the camera to say the final words of this live broadcast.

His voice was low, his tone tender, as if whispering sweet nothings to me.

He said, "Qu Xi, I've come to find you. Don't rush to drink the Forgetfulness Potion. Let's hit the road together."

Just then, Li Dui's phone suddenly rang.

He quickly answered the call, but his eyes remained fixed on the phone screen.

"The person has been found—"

"Bang!!!"

"Bang!!!"

Just as he started speaking, two loud bangs were heard simultaneously in the earpiece and in the live broadcast room.

My heart plummeted.

In the camera, Xu Yiran's gentle smile, along with the twisted faces of those around him due to fear and anger, formed a bitterly ironic scene.

In the next moment, the live broadcast, delayed by two minutes, suddenly plunged into darkness.

It was unclear who started it, but the audience who hadn't left yet all uniformly flooded the chat with "I'm sorry."

But what use was it to apologize repeatedly?

I'm dead.

Xu Yiran is dead too.