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... ly ancestral home.

Though the living room had been cleaned, the thick metallic scent of blood still lingered in the air.

Sinclair seemed oblivious to it.

His dark eyes were lowered, his sharp, chiseled profile exuding an air of detached indifference as he idly twirled a fruit knife between his long, elegant fingers.

The servants cleaning the room held their breaths, careful not to make a sound that might draw his attention.

Then— *Thud.

* *Thud.* < ...

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Cross-server communication is barrier-free, and you can rely on your brain for guidance!

After many years, Lin Zhishui finally understood the truth. Looking at the brush that had accompanied him for many years, the corners of his mouth twitched:

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