Yuan Xianting carried the corpse in his hand, his face showing neither release nor disgust. Instead, an inerasable weariness lingered there.
That good-for-nothing from the Bitter Cage School had said—"Pain makes me feel that I exist, but existence itself is pain."
He had just endured countless blows, yet he had felt no sense of his own existence. Instead, there was an indescribable suffocation.
Lu Maoguan was a Grand Master inferior to Qian Jinhua in every respect. The only thing in which he surpassed his predecessor was his steadfast adherence to the Mohist School spirit.
Once such an ordinary Grand Master was blasted beyond the bounds of Grand City, swift death was the certain outcome.
Yuan Xianting foresaw that outcome and brought it about, yet he could not feel any exhilaration.
He only found it ugly.
Lu Maoguan had died to the Human Race's indifferent watching, just as Yuan Xianting himself had watched the tragedy within Thousand Calamities Grotto unfold.
What, in the end, was the difference between the Demon Race and the Human Race? Equally noble, equally vile.
Back then, he had been about to beat Tiger Taisui to death, but in the end, he had lowered his fist.
Life and death could not stop him.
Nor could anyone's majesty make him stay his hand.
He had stopped because of the future spoken of by those so-called far-sighted people in Primordial Imperial City.
A Demon Race without a future needed a "future" far too badly, no matter what form it took.
Destroy the Mohist School! Destroy one of the Infinite Possibilities of the Human Race.
He no longer wanted to wait at the Investiture Platform, no longer wanted to guard the world of Heavenly Prison. He did not wish to wear shackles and chains, year after year. Still less could