Perhaps Everything Was Destined to End in Futility

"Kill me."

His hoarse voice echoed through the great hall.

Ye Xiu looked at Qiu Yu within the pillar. His expression was swallowed by the darkness; only those ashen eyes still reflected a few glimmers of light.

Sadly, there was only an empty shell left. He was already a dead man.

Ye Xiu smiled. "You can't die yet."

"Right."

After a moment of silence, Qiu Yu spoke. "You want to keep me alive and continue humiliating me, so those people still smug that it hasn't happened to them can see what will become of them if they insist on claiming the mountain as kings."

Qiu Yu was not stupid. Or rather, no proper cultivator was a fool.

When one was lost within the situation, perhaps favorable winds could breed arrogance. But once they had been beaten, many things were not difficult to understand.

The profits brought by the railway were terrifying. As someone who had personally managed it, Qiu Yu understood that better than anyone.

The sect had been satisfied with the railway's immense profits, which had allowed the once-unremarkable Northern Origin Sect to become one of Yu Prefecture's foremost underground behemoths.

They believed that Qiu Yu had handed over all the profits in the previously agreed ninety-ten split. Even if he secretly skimmed some off the top, they assumed it could not amount to much.

After all, the resources on the surface were finite. If one person got more, another got less. The sect had received the expected profits, even more than expected. Judging by his abilities, how much benefit could Qiu Yu possibly have kept for himself?

Yet they did not know that their so-called ninety-ten split had never existed. Qiu Yu had tested the waters by withholding a little at a time. While ensuring gradual growth, he