Chapter 1951


    Morpheus'' gradual recovery unfolded day by day. Capitalizing on the sunny weather, he meticulously


    cleaned his home, both inside and out.


    However, in the process, he encountered an array of poignant memories tied to a particr individual—


    a bunch of dried flowers, a half-eaten box of choctes, a stack of prescriptions...


    His heart suddenly clenched with pain.


    Persephone cherished the streets of Flinge, particrly the unknown little colorful and vibrant flowers


    blooming by the roadside. She imed these flowers were never seen in Centrolis. After confirming


    they were unattended, she secretly plucked a bunch and turned them into dried flowers. Each day, she


    would beam at the flowers with a bright smile.


    With a penchant for sweets, especially after he scolded her, she would guilt-trip him with her big teary


    eyes, prompting him to feel he had been too harsh. Consequently, he would regrly buy her


    choctes. There were limited dessert options in Flinge, and this brand of chocte stood out as the


    best.


    Concerned when he got injured, she stayed up all night writing prescriptions, asserting that they were


    secret forms from Southeast Aciatic and highly effective for bruises...


    As Morpheus ruminated on her, memories of her appearance and personality crystallized in his mind,


    yet his vision began to blur.


    He chuckled, muttering inwardly, ''Silly girl... She even knows secret recipes from Southeast Aciatic.''


    After the chuckle, he suddenly felt a cool drop on the back of his hand.


    Abruptly, urgent knocking interrupted Morpheus''s thoughts. He swiftly gathered everything and opened


    the door to a sly, smiling face.


    "Bro!" Fat Jim pped his chest. "Wow, you''re looking stronger!"


    Morpheus''s gaze dimmed. He said nothing, just stepping aside to let him in.


    Once Fat Jim entered, he started surveying the room—boxing gloves, punching bags, and training


    equipment in abundance. However, the dried flowers peeking out behind the cab shed with the


    room''s masculine vibe.


    He smirked, specting about the potential connection between the man who wanted Morpheus dead


    and the owner of these dried flowers. Nevertheless, he remained indifferent to their love triangles or


    quadrangles. The cash he held was the most tangible thing.


    Fat Jim paused, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a small dark vial. "Take this before next week''s


    match."


    Morpheus was taken aback. He knew what was in it. Fat Jim had forced it on him before. Despite Fat


    Jim''s persistence, it was futile as he was physically too weak.


    After Morpheus firmly refused, Fat Jim never dared to mention it again. Hence, Fat Jim harbored


    complex feelings, wanting to exploit him but also resenting him.


    Fat Jim shifted his gaze. "I know you disdain winning matches this way, but think about it. Who''s your


    opponent next week? That person is more ruthless than Louis!"


    "I''ve faced much tougher opponents," Morpheus said nonchntly, adjusting the bandage around his


    wrist. "I''m still standing here in front of you, aren''t I?"


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    "Why are you so stubborn?" Fat Jim looked pained. "In our world, fists don''t have eyes. There are no


    rules in these matches—kill or be killed!"


    "I know."