A white silhouette flashed in and delivered a chop to the back of Gao Zhou's neck, knocking him unconscious.
"White Dragon?" Bai Ruozhu felt a pang in her heart, "Knocking him out is useless; when he wakes up, he still won't live on his own."
She had already seen the absolute and oppressive aura of death in Gao Zhou's eyes.
White Dragon glanced at Chushuang and asked, somewhat perplexed, "Is it worth it? You haven't seen her in over twenty years—how much do you still remember about her? And since you've survived these twenty years without seeing her, what's the harm in not meeting again?"
Unfortunately, Gao Zhou was unconscious and couldn't answer his question.
"You don't understand, as long as there's hope, just knowing she's alive, my father can hold on. But if my mother dies, he won't last a minute," Jiang Yichun said angrily.
White Dragon didn't look at him, nor was he angry. He murmured, "If it were him who died, would that woman also die for him?"
