Yang Qian looked at the needle named "Black Burial" in his hand and fell into silence.
The moment Enfield spoke, he understood that he had no choice.
As a servant, he had no right to refuse, nor the opportunity to retreat.
He was an orphan with no family or friends, seemingly without ties, but the Collection Clan had preemptively injected chronic Poison into his body as their trump card for ensuring loyalty.
Yang Qian knew that this Poison was easily neutralized in the current era; the Collection Clan did it only out of ancient family ritual. But even if he broke free, where could a mere mortal like him hide?
In this vast world, there really weren't many places Yang Qian could hide.
"Isn't our fate already determined the moment we joined the family?"
He laughed self-deprecatingly in his heart, but nodded outwardly, ultimately accepting this task.
