"Second, submit to me."
Han Yuchen's voice was not loud, but it carried an unquestionable, absolute will as it echoed through the deathly silent, blood-soaked palace hall.
He stood before the throne that had been tightly bound by dark-purple vines, like a true king appraising a trophy that was about to be branded as his own.
"I can not only dig you out of this pile of stinking vines, I can also grant you power." Han Yuchen bent slightly, his deep, universe-like glazed eyes staring straight into Qian Renxue's empty ones. His voice held a hint of temptation that made the soul tremble. "A kind of power... enough for you to seek justice from those 'Gods' who abandoned you like garbage."
Revenge.
Those two words were like a drop of cold water falling into a boiling pan of oil, instantly stirring a crazed reaction in the depths of Qian Renxue's soul, which had already fallen completely silent and ashen.
Her lowered head trembled faintly.
In her golden pupils, which had gone unfocused from utter despair, something suddenly shattered.
The light of faith that had once represented sanctity, brightness, and untouchable loftiness was completely annihilated in that instant. In its place was a pitch-black flame born from the Abyss, named "revenge."
Since the divine see me as nothing, since faith was nothing but a fraud, why should I still be that lofty inheritor of the angels?
Qian Renxue slowly raised her head. Because she had been suspended for so long and had lost so much blood, her neck made a teeth-aching sound of bones grinding together.
She stared fixedly at Han Yuchen. On that incomparably beautiful face, now covered in blood and tear streaks, a chilling, tragic smile appeared.
"What do you want me... to do?"
Her voice was terrifyingly hoarse,