The World Greatest Assassin Has Returned

The Returned[2]

She was Zero's fellow classmate in high school. By now, she had already been engaged to someone else, yet her elegant and refined complexion remained engraved in Zero 's mind; the same as it was in the past. Following the passage of time, her image became all the more unforgettable. He wondered... When she receives the news of my death, of how I took Jaime Yen out with me, how will she react? Will she sigh? Or perhaps... will she shed tears in grief?

The old memories of the past seemed to breach through their constraints and began flooding in. They were now drifting and floating within his mind. He was quite regretful. Sometimes, when you finally realize or understand the truth of something... it is already too late to do anything about it. In this lifetime he truly had too many regrets, too many unfulfilled desires...

Zero reached out to grab at the empty air, wishing to grasp onto something... However, to his dismay, everything had gradually gone out of his reach. Alas, his life had finally reached its limit—up ahead lay only an eternally silent abyss.

Remorse and dismay resembled a dagger as it incessantly sliced at his heart; the pain in his chest was unbearable.

What wrongs have I committed in my past life for the Heavens to torment and punish me in such a way!?

Zero 's grievances soared to the Heavens. He was bitter. He screamed resentfully in his mind as teardrops continually tumbled down his cheeks

The moment seemed to last forever, and Zero was actually completely unaware of how much time had passed. Eventually, his mind calmed down and gradually became serene

His mind was still active as he pondered away... Could it be...? Is this death? Perhaps, I'm in spirit form now?

For a long time Zero felt sensations in his fingers, moreover, it felt real. Why, after all this time, why am I still conscious? He immediately sat up. Surveying his surroundings, he stared out blankly, at a complete loss.

Could it be...? Is this the hell?

Zero's dull eyes gradually began to regain their focus. As he looked around, a few old things entered his vision: a wooden bed, a chair, and a visibly damaged floor.

Where is this place? Didn't I already die?

He felt as if he were in a dream—having a sort of illusory sensation. He began feeling his back; his entire hand felt wet and sticky. However, as he moved his hand into view, he saw that his palm wasn't covered in blood but rather sweat. The wet sensation he felt earlier was due to the clothing on his back having been soaked wet in his own perspiration.

What's going on?

Didn't I lose a lot of blood? He vaguely recalled his blood being red. It was just like red wine, except with a scarlet tint; it was the colour of his life gradually fading away

Zero still felt pain after pinching himself. This really isn't a dream. Don't tell me... assassinating Jaime Yen was a dream as well?

Why did it feel so real?

It was just as muttered as he awoke from a dream, "Am I Zhuang Zhuo who dreamt I was a butterfly, or a butterfly who dreamt it was Zhang Zhuo?"

How do I determine what is real, and what is a dream?

He surveyed his surroundings with a hint of doubt. There were just too many questions left unanswered.

Within the dim lighting, there was a shabby-looking wooden bed, chair, and desk. By the wall, there stood the grandfather clock his old man loved to exaggerate as a priceless antique.「Tick Tock Tick Tock」The sound it produced echoed into the silence. Zero recalled that the clock's time had never been accurate, not even once.

It was as if his past memories were stored in an old photo album, they slowly began opening up.

This room here feels so familiar. Isn't this the house I lived in when I was in high school?

Through the gap in the window curtains, sunlight shone in. He felt a stinging sensation as the sunlight entered his eyes, causing his pupils to violently contract. This was a type of dazzling awakening into reality.

I'm still alive... Zero stretched his right hand forward. He gazed at its tenderness and slight immaturity before noticing the sickly pale skin tone.

I... What's going on here? Am I myself from eleven years in the past, or am I myself from ten years in the future? Zero scratched his hair in great bewilderment.

Aligning his train of thought, a few fragments from his memories began emerging. Gradually, they became clearer and distinct.

This was the year he turned eighteen. It was summer vacation and his parents weren't home. He had developed a forty degree fever that summer and nearly died... Only through luck did he manage to keep his life.