Etched onto one of the walls in an empty room were profound words that read, "In a Cruel World's Embrace, Only the Strong Prevail, Forever Twined in the Eternal Circle."
*Kacha!*
The jarring sound of fracture echoed ominously through the barren room.
"Hmmm?" A burly figure paused, his gaze dropping to the massive hand that looked to be bigger than even a bear's paw. Within his grip, remnants of a jade slip lay in shards, its center stained with a now-drying drop of blood. His brows furrowed for a moment before they loosened, his expression returning to normal.
"Tch," He clicked his tongue, "It seems Zehir has perished. What a waste." He muttered indifferently before closing his eyes and returning to his cultivation.
The thought of who killed him didn't even cross his mind, nor did he care. He just went back to what he was doing as if nothing had happened.
***
