Yuan Xuelan must have killed Peng Jipei at least twenty times already.
Going through the motions of his alternative self and cleaving through the corpses that littered the Hidden Mist manor was tiring enough. Sometimes Xuelan could feel the roar of adrenaline through his veins. Sometimes he could feel the beat of his heart and the thirst for bloodlust, the itch for battle.
But where was the rage he so depended on?
His heart felt nothing but the slow drawl of anguish. The beating weight of a chore that he couldn't understand and that he wished for it to be over.
What did his alternative self even want?
Yuan Xuelan had originally assumed that it was to behead Peng Jipei himself. Sumeng had stolen the chance from him obviously…
But after doing just that, and earning an equally disapproving glare from the Ivory Sword Saint, Yuan Xuelan had expected the fragment of the Celestial Sun Scroll to fall right into his hands.
It didn't.
