The more this man desired something, the stronger his urge to personally destroy and wreck it became.
But on one hand, he felt extremely conflicted and reluctant, fearing the anxiety of breaking his favorite toy, how then could he endure such long, tedious years?
If only it would obediently comply.
The man's platinum eyes were replaced by a blood-red hue.
Soon after, Baili An's serene voice arose, like a cool breeze sweeping over the mountain peaks at night.
"You offer me no choice at all," he said, his voice as calm as if pronouncing a verdict, "From the moment I grasp the sword in my hand, the direction in which the sword tip points has already determined the existence of my enemy. My only choice is to risk it all in a battle to determine the victor."
"Victory means life, defeat means death."
His pale, blood-stained face bore a calm and composure far beyond his peers.
Measured in speech, fearless in presence.
