Chapter 602: He's Dead Eight Years Ago
Even Abel hadn't expected the connection between the two.
He turned around to carefully assess the upright and gentle young man behind him, finding a resemblance to an old acquaintance.
"Is your father really Willie?"
Eddie clenched his fists hidden in his sleeves, his thoughts drifting back to a time long ago when his father had held his hand and led him into the courtyard. Pointing to the medicinal herbs on the wooden rack, he had explained the names and uses of each one to Eddie.
"Eddie, take a look. This is called Plantago, with a sweet taste and a cold nature."
"Dad, can this herb be consumed?"
"Of course, Plantago has diuretic, cooling, antitussive, and expectorant effects."
"I see. Is it because Sister has been feeling a bit unwell recently that we needed to find it?"
"Yes, Eddie, you're truly clever."
The memories scattered, and in the blink of an eye, they transformed into the tragic scene of a car accident, with his mother no longer breathing.
His father, covered in blood, lay on the ground, barely clinging to life as he grasped Eddie's hand, exerting all his strength to utter his final words.
"Eddie, your mother and I won't be here anymore. You must take care of your sister."
"Okay."
"And...take this, go to Terrace Street, find... Mr. Jonathan Owen."
"Dad, please don't leave us."
"Eddie, the only regret I have is I may never be able to return to Moon Hall, Onistead in my lifetime."
time Eddie had heard "Moon
last words, his father embraced his deceased
two requests: to take care of Kate and to return
the ring handed down by his father, Eddie found Terrace Street, where a master accepted him as a disciple and taught
finally learned what Moon Hall was through inquiries and investigations-it was where his father
had taken his mother
of pride and deepest shame for Moon Hall because he
would hum
intervened with a smile, and before it
say that their mother spoiled
his mother due to her humble
was whether his so-called
his head again, his fair and handsome face now bearing a hint of relief. "Yes, my father is called Willie Zamora, and my
Leandro's eyes
gazed at the young man before him in a daze, seeing a resemblance
his way over, his elderly hand stopping
He seemed somewhat lost.
"Y-you're called Eddie, right?"
"Yes."
your father? How's
question, Leandro's heart suddenly tightened. He was eager to hear the answer, yet afraid
cold laugh, and a hint of resentment and disdain
you already drove him out of the
"I...,"
"He's dead."
"What... what?"
Dead?
refused to swallow his pride, but waited for his son to
integrity,
heard the news, it was already
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