"Saint, Zhou Zhiyuan!"
White Mitchell's face turned pale rapidly.
This was a sign of nearing the brink of a breakthrough. If he failed to break through, tragically, White Mitchell would probably die from self-detonation.
Thinking about this, White Mitchell, stubbornly resisting the discomfort of his body, risked venturing into the life of the next Saint.
Thin clouds floated in the sky, and sunlight streamed through the clouds, sprinkling on a small village nestled amongst green hills and clear waters. This village was called Taip Village, a picturesque place. A boy named White Mitchell lived there.
White Mitchell was an orphan in the village, known as White because he always wore a white robe. Despite his poverty, he was kind-hearted and willing to help others. Every day, he voluntarily helped the elderly with their heavy farm work. The villagers loved him, deeming him a good child.