The young man looked at the frail old man before him with complicated eyes. His lifespan was extremely long, so he should have had little concept of birth, aging, sickness, and death. But who could truly remain indifferent to the passing of a life? Even humans would sigh at withering trees and dying ants, let alone when there was a living, breathing person before them.
The old man before him had not had much time left to begin with, yet now he had to make this old man die in pain. How cruel and infuriating was that?
The young man wanted to say something, to make himself seem less pathetic, but he could not say anything. Because he did not know why exactly he had to kill this old man, who was so, so, so much younger than him...
He had originally had no reason, no need, and no right to kill this old man. Yet the helplessness of reality had "forced" him into this embarrassing predicament.
Perhaps seeing the hesitation in the person before him, the old man smiled and said, "You can't bring yourself to do it? Or are you pitying this useless old man?"
Hearing the old man's frank and relaxed words, the young man was somewhat puzzled and somewhat shocked as he raised his head. He had killed people before, but among all those he had killed, this old man was the most free-spirited and at ease.
This was not the self-abandonment of someone who saw no hope of survival. He had seen that before. Those people seemed not to care about death, but inwardly, they were terrified. This old man was different. He truly did not take death seriously.
"Don't doubt it, young man. Ever since you killed the others, I sensed that my own