Malice was extremely dangerous, more insidious than hatred and more sinister than murderous intent. Once malice set its sights on someone, their fate was usually horrific. Death often became a release, because malice delighted most in cruel torment and abuse. Killing was not its goal, but part of the entertainment.
Bai Xiao carried Gao Ming's corpse on his back, but even under the influence of the malice in his heart, he had lifted the body with great tenderness.
Even filled with malice, he treated Gao Ming's corpse with more respect than Yuan Hui and the others did.
Wan Jie was still doing everything he could to kill Zhuo Jun. Better to sever one finger than wound all ten. He was powerful, but as more Security personnel joined the fight, even he began to struggle.
Raising the tip of his blade, Bai Xiao walked toward Yuan Hui. Some force gradually warped his gaze, and a terrifying smile curled his lips.
Suppressing malice was agonizing; releasing it felt wonderfully satisfying.
Quickening his steps, Bai Xiao silently closed the distance.
Yuan Hui, who had been worrying about Zhuo Jun, suddenly felt an inexplicable chill. He turned, saw the look in Bai Xiao's eyes, and flinched. "Wh-what are you trying to do?"
"I'm just a little curious. How did you kill Gao Ming? After all, as far as I'm concerned, you might both be students from Class Thirteen, but you're nowhere near his level." The moment Bai Xiao spoke, he struck a sore spot deep in Yuan Hui's heart.
Yuan Hui did not let anger cloud his judgment. A life-or-death battle was raging over there, yet Bai Xiao was mocking him. Something was clearly wrong.
Retreating to one side, Yuan Hui abandoned any thought of helping Zhuo Jun. He watched Bai Xiao warily, ready