<h4>Chapter 429: The Madman’s Heart</h4>


    Annan felt the suffocation growing intense with phlegm stuck in his throat.


    He could not open his eyes at all and could only move his eyelids slightly, even when he mustered all his strength.


    Annan felt pain all over his body: under the skin, internal organs, and bones. Luckily, his curse was still working.


    This had weakened the pain countless folds. However, the pain was still vividly haunting Annan despite the pain relief effect.


    All the curses could do was to make Annan calmer.


    It was an unprecedented sense of being weak.


    Not to mention chatting, Annan did not even have the strength to groan with each breath bing more debilitated, closer to death.


    I see.


    Is this what it feels like to age and die?


    Annan had an insight in his heart.


    That was not a life that could be terminated suddenly after exhaling the next breath.


    Instead, Annan died little by little. It was like the light of a fire that gradually went out.


    Suddenly, Annan saw something—


    The most eager, middle-aged woman held her hand. She seemed to be the body’s daughter, and her body suddenly lit up.


    Even Annan did not need to open his eyes to see his image.


    (Is this finally the end? It’s such a hassle. Is the old man finally going to die?)


    As Annan’s left eye warmed slightly, a faint whisper sounded in Annan’s heart.


    Is this the [Angel’s Left Eye]?


    Annan was stunned for a moment before realizing it.


    The next moment, the young woman who had been sobbing in the corner finally cried out loud.


    It was a sob that came out of her throat when she could not hold it back anymore.


    The man beside her sighed deeply, hugged the woman in his arms, gently patted her shoulder, andforted her silently.


    At this moment, the young man also suddenly showed light.


    (Damn, die quickly. Jenny hasn’t slept for several days. Her body will not be able to take it.)


    While the girl named Jenny was sobbing loudly, the sadness spread around the room like a curse.


    People who did not intend to cry could not help but choke with sobs.


    Tears flowed from their eyes subconsciously, but they did not seem to realize it. Those who shed tears became sadder.


    Even Annan had wet the corner of his eyes.


    A middle-aged man suddenly stood up, lowered his eyes, sobbed, reached out his trembling hand, and wiped the corner of Annan’s eyes with a handkerchief.


    “Teacher.” He spoke in a low sob.


    He appeared saddened with that solemn attitude.


    In Annan’s eyes, the man was suddenly highlighted.


    (Great, I finally found an opportunity to express my [Filial Piety]. The teacher’s family now sees my sincerity. When I use the teacher’s name to sell paintings to make money, they probably won’t point it out of concern for me.)


    Immediately afterward, one person after another in the house gradually lit up in Annan’s eyes.


    A rustling, malicious whisper resounded in Annan’s heart.


    (I don’t think I have a share of the teacher’s legacy. Then, I’ll take the painting from the studio tomorrow.)


    (I wonder if the second uncle’s inheritance can fill Little Marlin’s gambling debts. This is a terminal illness. Why did you waste so much money on him previously?)


    (It’s retribution. He deserves it. If Grandpa didn’t stop me from marrying Justin, he wouldn’t have ended up with no money to find a priest now.)


    (I have wasted more than a month of my time, but he will finally die. Great, I don’t have a job anymore.)


    As Annan got closer to death, the more mournful those around him became.


    But the malice that ignited in their hearts became more and more intense.


    That might not be called malicious.


    Instead, they just looked forward to Annan’s death.


    The old painter, who had been hospitalized for a long time, had already burned away the grief of his family and students in the long and near-death journey.


    The noise in Annan’s head faded away.


    Everything around him suddenly became quiet, the pain in his body disappeared, and he fell intoplete silence.


    Then, he remembered.


    They were not like that for a while when they first fell ill, and neither was he.


    “Don’t waste money on treating me. My disease can’t be cured.”


    “Don’t say that! We have to treat the elderly with money.”


    Like shbacks, the events four months ago shed before his eyes.


    Their eyes were filled with anxiety and urgency in words and actions. There was eager and real “love”.


    But not long after that, the love wholly burned out.


    The vicissitudes in life and themitment of energy, mental and financial resources consumed the overflowing “love” before the sickbed.


    It happened unknowingly. The desire to “survive in the end” gradually turned into a desire to “die sooner.”


    The sentiment amplified between 10%, 30%, and 50% across time.


    What they showed was still the love of the past, but what they were thinking was clear as day in the eyes of the old man.


    The only way to revive that love is to die.


    To wash away the exhaustion, irritability, pain, and sadness and turn them into sweet nostalgia.


    Only when I die can I not be hated and stop troubling them.


    Death is my only way out.


    Is that what you want to show me, Danton? Annan watched the shbacks of the body’s life in the studio, and this thought came to his mind.


    Danton did not want Annan to die in the nightmare but to confuse Annan’s perception of “life” and “death”.


    Danton wanted to nt the thought on Annan that ??”It’s wrong for me to live”, and let Annan have the idea that ??”people are expecting him to die”.


    What is Danton going to do?


    Is he trying to detonate the desire to seek demise?


    “This is so boring.” Annan sighed deeply, “It’s not as interesting as thest trap.”


    The nightmare suddenly fell apart.


    Then, Annan reopened his eyes.


    The brilliance in his eyes dimmed a little, but the glow overflowed again immediately.


    “It’s underwhelming.” Annan sighed, “How is this your ultimate trick? Who do you think I am?


    “This level of fear is negligible. I don’t even have the slightest thought of ‘I should die’.”


    The white-haired youth opposite Annan frowned iprehensibly, “How? Don’t you have a heart?


    “Don’t you have a shred of guilt when the people who loved you hates you? You don’t even want them to give up on saving you.”


    “That’s natural. Their hate for me has nothing to do with me. I don’t live for them.” Annan sighed and stood up.


    The broken wall beneath his feet suddenly shook.


    The seven fear fragments were collected, and the nightmare suddenly trembled.


    The ruins spun and gathered together; buildings were outlined in the void, filling the gaps in the broken walls.


    The ship, which was initially broken into pieces, was reconstructed in the blink of an eye.


    Finally, Annan recognized it after having a full view of the ship.


    This was the first nightmare he had ever experienced.


    An artificial nightmare created by Benjamin with John’s soul and all the curses of Don Juan Geraint.


    That ship.


    “Hey, make no mistake, Danton.” Annan looked down at the white-haired youth leaning against the wall and said calmly, “I am not a saint, a deity, or a king.


    “It doesn’t matter to me how the outsiders are. There’s a limit to what I have control over. All I can manage is myself.


    “Like the spider thread nightmare, I told them to follow me. But did I turn around and wait for them? Did I expect them? Did I give orders and direct them?


    “Am I stipting that they have to follow me? Did I demand them not to betray me? Did I say a word when they backed off?”


    Annanughed heartily, “Stop it, Danton!


    “I’m not your average madman. They do what they like. I won’t sacrifice myself because I want to answer their request but because I want to get something. Thus, I don’t need any remuneration. Then, when I’m hated and not needed, I forget about them.


    “They like to y this game called ‘life’, so I lead them in the game. But when I don’t want to, no one gets to force me to help them; if they don’t like it, they go back and live their own lives. After all, their expectation has nothing to do with me.”