When everyone had their hands on the lasso, a pillar of green light suddenly rose from the Spectre's body. Howling gale-force winds lashed everyone's faces, as if some colossal object had crashed down right beside them.
For an instant, Su Ming felt as though he were watching a Super Saiyan transformation. Aside from the sickly green color, it was practically identical.
"Is this powering up? The visual effects are pretty good."
Before he could finish the jab in his mind, an enormous flood of images passed through Strangle's filter and poured into his brain. All manner of revenge stories unfolded before his eyes.
For example, someone who went through countless hardships to kill his father's murderer, only to discover that the murderer was his biological father.
Or someone who endured humiliation and bided his time for over a decade, only to find that his enemy had long since died peacefully in bed, smiling to the end.
There were also all sorts of tacky scenarios: someone who spent an entire lifetime cautiously building up the strength to take revenge, only to die in an accident; someone who was shot dead by the police on the road to revenge because he was Black and carrying an unlicensed gun; or a hate-filled boy who was hit by a car, lost his memories, and was turned into a cyborg by his enemy.
If the past truly drifted away like smoke, then this smoke was a little too thick—so thick that one could not see a hand in front of one's face.
Su Ming had roughly figured something out. They had seen certain truths through the Spectre. What this green-hatted guy had shown them were all tragedies, tragedies born of revenge.
The more amusing a story appeared to outsiders, the more tragic it was for