Gangzi's bony hand trembled. Did he really have to go this far to become a god...?
He looked toward the distant figure standing atop ten Soul Rings. His bull eyes widened, as though he had made up his mind.
"If I can become a god... anything is worth doing!" Gangzi said, raising the dagger.
But his hand went no farther.
He couldn't bring himself to do it.
If Gangzi had been asked to do anything else, he might have gritted his teeth and endured it. Even if he had to take lessons from Scarface, he could have slept on brushwood and tasted gall for the sake of becoming a god.
But... but...
To throw the good brother who had kept him company for sixty years out of the house with his own hands? He couldn't do it!
"Master, what are you standing here for?" A familiar raspy voice sounded. It was Xuanwu.
"Shadow Chief!" Gangzi's eyes lit up. Green light gleamed in his bull eyes as he stared intently at Xuanwu.
"Master, why are you looking at me like that?" Xuanwu asked, puzzled, while quietly taking two steps back.
Gangzi took a deep breath. "Shadow Chief, I need your help."
Humiliated beyond words, Gangzi told Xuanwu about Rakshasa God's Eighth Trial: if he couldn't kill a God's successor, his brother would have to leave him.
"So you can't bring yourself to do it, Master, and you want me to help..." Xuanwu stared at Gangzi with an odd expression. Once he was sure Gangzi was serious, his face fell.
He hadn't expected Gangzi to make such a request.
"Master, are you sure?" Xuanwu asked, still looking at him strangely.
"I'm sure!" Gangzi drew a deep breath and clasped his hands behind his back.
He tilted his dark face forty-five degrees toward