Seeing the hatred flash through the cat's eyes, Zhang Xiaohua felt as though a heavy hammer had struck his heart. Looking at the bright red blood flowing from the cat's mouth and its four legs gradually ceasing to move, a sudden wave of sorrow rose within him. Once the cat had gone completely still, Zhang Xiaohua looked around, carefully lifted the light, pitiful little creature from the ground, and walked step by step to the roadside. He continued into the wasteland beside the road, glanced left and right, then set it down. Huanhuan obediently followed him over. Zhang Xiaohua took the long sword from Huanhuan's back and, in a few swift motions, dug a deep pit in the wasteland.
Zhang Xiaohua lifted the kitten and carefully placed it into the deep pit, as though afraid of disturbing its beautiful dream. Then, his heart full of grief, he sprinkled earth over the cat little by little, murmuring something under his breath. Only after the loose soil had filled the pit did Zhang Xiaohua stop. He dusted off his hands, looked up at the sky blanketed in dark clouds, and sighed deeply. "Life is so fragile!"
To be honest, ever since Zhang Xiaohua began refining Qi, he had killed with decisive resolve. He did not know how many lives had fallen by his hand. Perhaps because his methods of killing were too ingenious, he had not seen much blood; moreover, those he killed had all been wicked people, so he had not borne much of a burden in his heart. Yet today, seeing an innocent cat suddenly crushed to death by a carriage, such an utterly ordinary occurrence stirred his compassion. If it was the backlash of the murderous aura from his past killings, that was only to be expected.
"Life, death,