Chapter 614: Elvis jumped down with her.

Last time, in the sea of clouds, they broke up unhappily. Two days passed without contact; Olive truly didn't expect him to come. Elvis's handsome face was as cold as ice. He grabbed her small hand, intending to pull her up.

At that moment, the soil beneath Elvis's feet softened. Clearly, the ground couldn't support their combined weight. Continuing would not only fail to save her but also cause them both to fall.

Olive trembled, gazing into the abyss below. "Elvis, let go," she pleaded.

Elvis's thin lips formed a cold, white line. Gritting his teeth, he snarled, "Olive, are you deaf? I told you to shut up!"

This fierce man!

Olive slowly parted her lips. Her clear pupils reflected Elvis's handsome face. Three years ago, three years later—whenever she was in danger, he was there. Although late, he was never absent.

Tears welled in Olive's eyes, misting their surface. She raised her other hand to untangle his fingers.

Elvis's eyes twitched. Sensing her intentions, he asked, "Olive, what are you doing?"

Olive pushed his long fingers away, one by one. Beaming through her tears, she said, "Elvis, I can finally get rid of you. Take good care of Nathan. Forget me."

Her slender wrist slipped from his grasp, and Olive fell.

"Olive!"

Elvis roared, watching her disappear into the abyss. His eyes felt like they would explode; the corners, long and narrow, quickly flushed scarlet. Her last words echoed in his ears: "Elvis, I can finally get rid of you!"

She had always wanted to be rid of him, even unto death. The irony was ridiculous. After their parting in the sea of clouds, he should have forgotten her, but he couldn't.

Knowing she was going to the dangerously perilous worship hall, he followed. He hated her, yet he couldn't forget her. He loved her fiercely, passionately, to the marrow of his bones. His hate and love were inextricably intertwined.

Elvis felt his heart empty. Without Olive… how would he live? What would he be without her?

Panic and despair swelled within him, instantly engulfing him. He stepped forward and jumped.

"Young master!" A scream pierced the air from above.

Falling, Olive felt a terrifying weightlessness, a surge of fear and anxiety. Was she dying?

She looked up at the starry sky. She didn't want to die; she had so much to do. She hadn't revived Visionary yet, a task weighing heavily on her. Nathan, Levi, and Ivy—she hadn't watched them grow up.

As she fell, she told Elvis she was finally escaping him, but that wasn't the truth. She wanted to say, "Elvis, Nathan, Levi, and Ivy are all your children. I gave birth to the triplets in October, and I have never given up on our children. Even in the most difficult times, I would save them with my own life."

But she changed her words. She imagined Elvis's sorrow, his self-recrimination, his future despair. It was better to say nothing, to spare him further pain.

Olive closed her eyes, a wry smile playing on her lips. She couldn't believe she would die like this. She shouldn't have died like this.

Then, a strong arm encircled her waist, pulling her hard against a warm chest. Olive froze, opening her eyes.

Elvis's face, magnified in her vision, resembled a jade sculpture. It was him?

Gasping, Olive was speechless. Elvis lowered his gaze to the woman in his arms. Her small face was pale, her eyelashes trembled, tears filling her eyes. She was soft, delicate, incredibly alluring.

He slowly raised his lips. "Scared?"

Olive was confused. She didn't understand why he had jumped too.

"Scared of what? Aren't you very brave?"

Olive inhaled sharply, her nostrils flaring. Facing death, people become vulnerable, unkind. "Elvis," she said, "I really hate you."

"Why?"

"Because you always…"

Listening to her accusations, Elvis's deep voice softened. "Olive, if you want to get rid of me, I'm afraid it won't be possible in this life. Let's try the next."

Olive grabbed his shirt, raising her head, her eyes brimming with tears. "So you jumped too?"

Elvis looked at her. "I told you. You won't escape. I won't let you go. You're my woman!"

He jumped because she was his woman. That alone was enough to make a woman devoted to him.

"Hold on tight," he murmured.

Olive quickly embraced his waist. As they fell, Elvis swiftly drew his knife, the blade slicing into the cliff, sending sparks flying. A sharp "hang" echoed.

Olive felt no pain, nestled in his strong chest, but she felt his back hit the cliff. Her palm quickly became wet with his blood. He was bleeding; did he not feel it?

The impact of their fall was devastating. He had taken the brunt of it, shielding her. He was fatally wounded.

Olive trembled, her vision blurred with tears. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Elvis's handsome face was pale, but his eyes, deep and narrow, held a calm power as he looked at her. He smiled. "Can you swim?"

"What?"

"Inhale, exhale, and swim hard."

A "bang" sounded, and they plunged into the vast ocean. The deep water instantly engulfed them, threatening to drown them.