Lin Xier stared up at him, her face tear-streaked, her shoulders trembling. She saw the unwavering resolve, the absolute, terrifying certainty in his eyes. The flicker of the old Jian she had hoped to find was utterly gone, extinguished by the cold, hard flame of his vengeance. He was no longer the boy she knew. He was a force of nature, a creature of darkness, relentless and unforgiving.
"Jian…" she whispered, her voice broken, defeated. "You truly are gone."
Jian remained silent, allowing her words to hang in the air, a final epitaph to his past. He felt a sharp, desolate ache deep within him, a fleeting moment of pure, unadulterated loneliness. But he crushed it, ruthlessly. Sentiment is weakness. Compassion is death. He had chosen his path, bathed in blood and fire. There was no turn
