Stunned for a moment, Rong Qinglei swung his legs over the side of the bed and, draped in his coat, sat at his desk.
He had just dreamt of the day his mother died when he was eight years old.
Her words in the dream, "My sister killed her elder sister" were burned into his mind and impossible to forget.
He had thought his mother meant she was telling him the identity of her killer.
But since taking control of the Xuansu Hall and investigating his mother's death, all he had uncovered was evidence of slow poisoning and nothing else.
And his mother had no sister.
Everything remained a mystery, left unresolved until now.
"Mother, do you blame me for not avenging you?" Pain flickered in Rong Qinglei's eyes.
He wrote down the words his mother had repeated in the dream on a blank sheet of paper, but his mind was blank, void of any clue.
Mother, if you are watching from the heavens, tell me who harmed you!
