Seeing the people lying dead all around, those below were plunged into grief, their cries and wails echoing across tens of thousands of miles.
"Let's go."
Seeing this, Xiaoyao spoke calmly. He had witnessed such scenes many times; his original body had seen far, far too many. Having inherited its memories, his heart did not stir in the slightest.
But as Ye Yun watched this scene, a thousand emotions churned within her, leaving her with an indescribable ache.
"Master, why can those powerful people slaughter living beings whenever they please? Why do those powerful people stand so high above everyone else?"
Tears streamed uncontrollably down Ye Yun's face. This was the first time this nine-year-old child had voiced her doubts.
"Because they are strong. The weak have no right to speak in this world—no, not just this world, but every world. No matter where they are, the weak have no voice."
"So if you do not wish to be bullied by anyone, if you do not wish for your life and death to rest in another's hands, then cultivate properly. Once you become powerful enough, you will be able to take control of your own destiny."
"Perhaps one day, I too may be slaughtered so casually by someone else."
Red Tiger walked through the sky while Xiaoyao stood atop his head with his hands behind his back, speaking softly.
"The weak... the strong..."
Ye Yun stared at her hands and murmured. At this moment, she truly began to yearn for power.
Right now, she had her master. No matter what trouble she caused, her master would stand behind her. But now, it seemed things were not like that.
What if one day her master could no longer protect her? What then? The best solution was to become stronger herself.
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