For a Golden Core cultivator, crushing a head was like crushing a block of tofu.
The only difference was their color.
Those terrified eyes were exposed too, then covered in blood.
Gao Fang merely shook his hand off at the end, putting the final period on his [beloved disciple]'s life.
Looking at the limp, ownerless body, Gao Fang felt not so much as a ripple in his heart.
For some reason, he suddenly remembered how, the first time he had killed someone, he had been too nervous to utter a single word, his hands trembling terribly.
Gao Fang also suddenly found he could not remember when exactly he had become an Evil Cultivator.
Evil Cultivator had always been a broad designation. If someone killed one or two innocent people, others might stand up against the injustice, but the label of Evil Cultivator was still a long way off.
Fighting other cultivators for cultivation resources and Spirit Stones, stopping at nothing to obtain them, would not necessarily earn someone the name of Evil Cultivator either. Such things were commonplace, after all.
Killing mortals to refine blood qi.
Perhaps it offended ordinary principles, but as long as one found every possible way to make people [volunteer], one would not necessarily be branded an Evil Cultivator.
Gao Fang turned and walked down with somewhat unsteady steps.
Perhaps it had begun with finding a way to kill a friend he had shared drinks and laughter with, all for a treasure he had once considered incomparably precious.
Or perhaps he had grown tired of covering his tracks after every deed, of pretending to be innocent when he was plainly the one responsible.
Tired of putting on a performance of desperately yearning for justice and goodness when he was already steeped in darkness.
Or perhaps...
There