Lin Jie stood up, his gaze vacantly fixed ahead, Liang Qingbai's words still echoed in his mind, evoking emotions so complex he couldn't even begin to describe them. His body trembled involuntarily, as if he were an addict whose cravings had grown stronger over time, suddenly indulging in a more potent, newly discovered drug.
He couldn't say he was excited, nor could he say he was angry. There was no pain, no happiness—just a relentless replay of his life in his mind, where he walked the edge of hell, guided back to a sunlit world by the light, only to be pushed again into a bottomless abyss by myriad hands, never able to climb out.
It was only now that he realized what he truly sought was not the pained expressions on others' faces or their hopeful pleas. No one under his hand had died quickly; each had endured unimaginable agony before descending resentfully into hell.
