Trying to persuade villains to turn over a new leaf was no different from hoping prostitutes would reform.
When asked what should be done with the three Changbai Swordsmen, Li Mu Yang's answer had been simple and decisive: kill them.
He understood people's hearts, and he understood human nature.
If he had once been unwilling to accept the knowledge and common sense that the old dragon had forcibly poured into him, then after the battle in Wind City, he had truly understood. This was what humanity really was. This was the darkest side of mankind—the side hidden from others and nearly impossible to believe.
For villains, there was no bottom line to their evil. Every day, they could become even worse than the day before.
Perhaps those three Changbai Swordsmen were capable of turning over a new leaf, but who cared?
Qin Han disagreed, Wen Ruo Ruo disagreed, and Wu Shanji had disagreed for reasons unknown. Thus, they had let the three Changbai Swordsmen go.
They had quickly returned, bringing even more Changbai Swordsmen, along with more falcons, hounds, claws, and fangs—
They could kill them again. Once they had killed until they could no longer lift a finger, the others would once again beg, scream, kneel, and plead for mercy, and then they would let them go one more time—
Villains became worse and worse because good people were too good.
Villains acted without restraint, while good people bore chains.
Huff, huff, huff.
Dozens of Changbai Swordsmen dressed in white, with crossed swords embroidered on their chests, surrounded Li Mu Yang and the others. Every one of them was on high alert, eyeing them like a tiger stalking its prey, hands gripping their sword hilts, looking ready to rush forward and hack them to pieces at any moment.
The