Modi felt none of his body's pain. He did not care how serious his injuries were. Instead, the anguish and awakening in his heart filled him with self-reproach. His lofty ideals remained unrealized, the great revolution had only just begun, and the rotten old powers were still flaunting their might...
As the one who spread the seeds of revolution, as the mentor and guide of those young revolutionaries, he had barely sounded the revolutionary war horn before he grew smug, convinced that destiny was on his side and nothing could stand in his way.
How foolish he had been!
What was the purpose of their revolution? To overthrow the flimsy notion of destiny. To build faith that people could triumph over heaven. To trample into the mud those aristocratic lords who hid behind the banners of deities and destiny, along with those greedy capitalists!
Yet when had he begun, without even realizing it, to think he was a child of destiny?
Was that not absurd?
As the saying went, he had become the very person he despised most.
No! Modi cried out in his heart. I'm not a child of destiny, and I don't believe in destiny! I'll lead ordinary people through their suffering and carve a road to the heavens. I'll restore a bright, just world! I may die. I may fail. But my convictions will never bend!
As Modi's thinking transformed, his aura surged, reaching the peak of Early Calamity Rank before pushing toward Mid Calamity Rank!
Modi looked at Death Angel. He had a feeling that if he defeated the enemy before him, he would advance smoothly to Mid Calamity Rank. The realization came to him in a flash of insight.
"Good. I underestimated you before, and I lost my way," Modi said evenly. "Perhaps I should