"Master, why the hell are you writing this gibberish?" a small disciple sat near a narcissistic man, asking with an exasperated tone.
The Narcissist paused his pen and replied, "I am getting old, and it's time to transfer some of my twisted wisdom to my fellow daoists, so they don't get misled by the damn believers of light." The Narcissist let out an evil chuckle.
He wasn't going to die without sharing his forbidden secrets with the world, even if it meant the world going to hell.
He also had a hidden motive behind his writing, to corrupt innocent readers and add to his army of evil daoists.
But who cares, right?
He put down his pen, finally finishing his new evil script. "Master, is it done?" asked the disciple.
The narcissist nodded and said, "Yes, take a look."
The child leaned over to peek at the text, but before he could, a hand clamped onto the back of his neck, and just like that, a new disciple died due to lack of breath.
