Late at night.

The hospital corridor hurriedly glided past a surgical bed, the doctor's expression anxious, " Move over, move over. The patient is in a dangerous situation. He needs surgery now!"

The assistant trotted after the end of the bed, stopping now and then to catch his breath, followed by an anxious question, "Sir, how are you feeling?"

Marcus was lying on the bed with a pale face, one hand covering his right shoulder in death as blood flowed out from between his fingers.

"I'm fine ......," he returned in a weak voice. He then seemed to lose all his strength and slowly closed his eyes.

Just moments ago,...