Meng Zhao gave a cold laugh. His formerly tyrannical presence, deep as an abyss and divine as a prison, abruptly transformed. His entire aura became eerie and sinister, while his purple-black vertical pupils turned into two constantly spinning vortex-like black holes, as though they could suck in a person's very soul.
With such a temperament, such an aura, how could he still be the noble scion of a great family and peerless prodigy praised by martial artists and renowned figures of the jianghu?
He was clearly a great demon rarely seen in all the world. His sinister Demonic Nature even left Shi Jiawen stunned, an involuntary fear rising from the depths of his heart.
"Whether it is demonic arts or divine arts, what difference is there to martial artists like us who pursue the supreme realm?
What matters is whether it can aid us on the path of climbing toward supreme power.
Buddhism, demons, Confucianism, Legalism—they are all paths. This path is not the path of the Daoist School, but the path of the world, the path of the martial world. Only by encompassing righteousness and evil, by embracing Gods and Devils alike, can one live up to the supreme realm.
Shi Jiawen, if you remain trapped by the distinction between righteousness and demonicness, your achievements will always be limited. Even if I impart every mind method I have created to you, you will never reach the highest realm."
Though Shi Jiawen feared Meng Zhao's current bearing, comparable to an ancient great demon, he was not so easily swayed. He said,
"Are you trying to convince me with the claim that martial arts have no distinction between righteousness and evil?
I am not one of those wandering jianghu men with neither knowledge nor foundation. Righteousness is righteousness, and demonicness is