Canard's Decision 2

After saying that, he slowly and solemnly bowed deeply to Jiliang, lowering his head.

For Canard, who had always regarded pride and strength as everything, this gesture was more difficult than the defeat of any battle.

This was not merely a request, but a complete surrender—the first time he had laid bare his proud, wounded heart before someone else without any defenses.

"Mr. Canard..."

Jiliang's voice carried a faint tremor.

She looked at the man deeply bowing before her, at his black hair and the tense line of his back.

She could feel the immense weight carried by this gesture. This was neither strategy nor pretense, but the most sincere posture a soul could take after reaching the end of the road and grasping its only ray of light.

If the Canard of the past—the one consumed by the flames of vengeance—could see this scene through a crack in time, what would he think?

An image of another self surfaced in Canard's mind.

Mad flames burned in that phantom's eyes, his features twisted by jealousy and rage.

He would scream and roar, charging forward without a thought, tearing apart this "weak" self who had "humbled himself" before an enemy before Jiliang could make any response.

Because in that self's world, lowering one's head meant failure, weakness, and betrayal of all the pain he had endured in the past.

But so what?

That was the past.

The one standing here now was Canard, who had made his own choice.

This choice might have been foolish, perhaps even naïve, but it was the only unwavering will he possessed at this moment.

It was a fact no one could interfere with, and no one could change.

Perhaps it was precisely this utterly pure, unwavering will that pierced through every suspicion and barrier, deeply