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After Zhongli Wu was rescued, he collapsed on the ground.
Long Zhanye stood before him, looking down at him.
Zhongli Wu raised his head, his face covered in knife-like scars and scorched black burns.
His gaze slowly moved down from Long Zhanye's face and settled on Ning Rongrong's severed head at his waist.
The head swayed slightly at Long Zhanye's waist, the Nine-Colored Goddess's face still frozen in the terror and disbelief of her final moment.
Zhongli Wu remained silent for a long time.
Finally, he let out a hoarse laugh. Yet that laughter held an almost absurd mixture of relief and bitterness.
"You killed her..." Zhongli Wu's voice was very soft. "You killed a god..."
Long Zhanye did not answer.
For decades, he had knelt before gods, bowed to heaven and earth, and begged for the slightest chance to attain godhood.
Throughout those years, he had prayed devoutly, pinning all his hopes on the mercy of those elusive, intangible gods.
Yet in the end, a god's head had been casually tossed before him just like that.
A dry laugh rose from deep in Zhongli Wu's throat, scraping back and forth through his chest.
"Then why did you save me?" Zhongli Wu asked.
His gaze shifted away from the severed head and settled on Long Zhanye's young, handsome face.
His eyes, however, held shock, bewilderment, and disbelief.
Long Zhanye looked down at him without pity or mockery, only an almost calm scrutiny.
He slowly spoke. "Because you showed me that the path of an Evil Soul Master is no lower than anyone else's. That is all."
He paused, then continued, "Now, I have slain a Second-Level Deity and saved you, but in doing so, I have also offended the entire Divine Realm."