At the time of his death, the sky was black. Black and barren, enough for one to wonder whether there was nothing beyond the sky, enough to wonder, conversely, if everything in existence was above, while he alone sunk into the abyss.

Yes, alone.

A bitter taste spread in his mouth. Bile rose until the base of his tongue swelled with acid, becoming a useless lump of meat that melded with his lips and could never be swallowed. The sting was terrible enough to bring a disgusting, cowardly hotness to his eyes that grew until it scorched trails down his cheeks until it joined the blackened earth beneath him.

In his haze, the ground seemed to fall away, but he did not stand — much like the sensation of the ocean taking away one’s legs, rendering one powerless. So powerful were the currents that he nearly lost himself; it was only this vague yet fierce refusal that kept his consciousness clinging to this wretched body, like the wet twine of a net being pulled to shore. A body that cannot move, cannot feel, and cannot breathe — can it even be called a body?

In any case, such a “body” would never be his!

Heaven is unseeing for the detested scum like himself. No, Heaven is unseeing for treating him as though he were detested scum in the first place! How high were his achievements in this life and the last that he had to fall until Heaven was satisfied? How could he accept that his ways were wrong, that his logic had no foundation, and that his comprehension of hat person were all based on lies? His legacy was already on the rise with an empire at his side; clearly, it was he who was purposefully misunderstood, villainized, and disposed of as Heaven’s greatest joke!

Heaven is unseeing! Heaven is unseeing!

What use is it to revolt against tiandao if you must also follow its way?

Forget it.

Since he’s lost everything once, he will never lose again.

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