Lorenzo, as if he had guessed what Red Falcon was thinking, spoke coldly.
"Red Falcon, don't entrust your life to the elusive concept of luck. I once had a friend who did just that."
After so many years, Lorenzo was about to return to the Seven Hills again, and his mind couldn't stop revisiting past scenes.
"He was a lucky guy, but he never abused his luck. As he put it, everyone has a finite amount of luck, and when you run out, bad luck comes to take your life."
Upon hearing this, Red Falcon's expression froze. He opened his mouth and asked dryly.
"That friend of yours... what happened to him?"
Red Falcon regretted asking after he did—most friends residing in Lorenzo's memories were no longer alive.
"He died in the great battle on the Night of the Holy Arrival. A shrapnel pierced through a gap in the armor, struck his vital organs, and delivered a fatal blow to his already heavily injured body."
