"My name is Zhao Ren. Don't forget it."
"You think you're going to survive?" Xiao Fang almost laughed. This guy had guts. "Zhao Ren, you're honest and ambitious. I'll give you that. But you tried to kill me just because I had something you wanted. Maybe, if you'd lived an honest life… you could've had an honest end."
"An honest end?" Zhao Ren scoffed. "Don't make me laugh. We cultivators walk a path against the heavens. If we want something, we take it—steal it, fight for it, or die trying. That's the only truth."
"Perhaps, but with no moral compass, you're just a monster," Xiao Fang replied coldly.
"Then what are you?" Zhao Ren shot back.
"What am I?" Xiao Fang murmured, lowering his sword as the words echoed in his mind.
He didn't have an answer. Not a real one. By his own definition, he was already a monster—too deep in the blood and darkness to pretend otherwise.
The question lingered.
