Not everyone is heartless. Not everyone would betray their master or raise a blade against those who raised them.
Perhaps there had been flaws in the way she taught them, but the deeper truth was that their nature was rotten. Selfish, shallow, and ungrateful.
If it had been someone else, perhaps the outcome would have been different.
Song Wanníng lowered her eyes for a moment. When she looked up again, the murderous intent in her gaze was enough to make hearts freeze.
The last knot of doubt in her heart had unraveled. There was no longer any reason for An Ze to exist.
"You… even if you saved me… I… I still won't… forgive you…" An Ze failed to understand the depth in Song Wanníng's eyes. He assumed she regretted her actions, that she was here to take him back as her disciple.
Inside, he was secretly pleased, even joyful. But he still couldn't help putting on airs, acting superior. Back when he was expelled from the sect, how humiliating had it been? How many mocking stares had he endured?
All of that was because of Song Wanníng. He wouldn't let her off the hook so easily.
Still, he didn't plan to make things too difficult for her. After all, going from a core disciple to an inner sect nobody was already a painful enough fall.
He dreamed day and night of returning to Yunxiao Peak, of being that elegant and respected core disciple again.
"Pfft." Song Wanníng let out a surprised laugh. She genuinely hadn't expected An Ze to be so full of himself.
In her past life, he had ridden the waves with the protagonist's group. Even now, after facing setbacks, he remained just as naive…
It was almost funny.
She raised an eyebrow. "You think I came here to save you?"
An Ze snorted, eyes filled with disdain. "Didn't you?"
She was just pretending to be cold. Deep down, she still cared. That was what he believed.
"Sorry to disappoint," Song Wanníng said, her smile fading as a chill spread from her eyes. "I only came because of our old master-disciple bond… to send you off."
The smugness on An Ze's face froze.
"Wha… what did you say…" He twisted his neck around, stunned, certain he must have misheard her.
But when that blade-sharp killing intent hovered above him like a guillotine, he finally realized—Song Wanníng was here to kill him.
No. That was impossible.
She used to care so much about him.
Whenever he suffered an injustice, she was the first to speak out.
Pills, spirit stones, talismans, magic tools—whatever he asked for, she gave.
Even if they were no longer master and disciple, how could she bear to kill him?
Shock and rage warred within him. His thoughts tangled like a storm.
"You… you… wouldn't dare!"
Fear crept into his voice.
Song Wanníng looked at him like he was already a corpse, her expression cold and distant.
No! He couldn't die!
"You can't kill me!"
Terror gave him strength, pushing back the pain in his body. His voice grew louder.
He tried glaring fiercely, hoping to intimidate her. It didn't work.
Then he thought of the sect. Panic turned to desperation.
"I—I left behind a soul lamp in the sect. If I die… they'll know right away—!
You… you'll be expelled for murdering a fellow disciple!" An Ze was pale, breath shallow, limbs trembling. Whether from fear or fury, even he couldn't tell.
Song Wanníng glanced at him like she was watching a clown. She pulled an object from her storage ring and toyed with it in her hand.
"You mean this?"
A faint smile tugged at her lips as she turned the soul lamp upside down.
"No—!" An Ze's eyes bulged in horror. He was so angry his vision blurred.
"You… how dare you…" His chest heaved violently. He couldn't even form a full sentence.
Too vicious. This was beyond vicious.
How could she bring the soul lamp out with her?
Now, even if he died, the sect wouldn't know. They wouldn't be able to find the killer.
"What about it?" Song Wanníng gave a low scoff. "Did you forget? I'm the one who prepared this soul lamp for you."
A soul lamp holds a wisp of a cultivator's soul. As long as it flickers, the person lives. When it goes out, they're dead.
Only inner sect disciples had the privilege of leaving behind soul lamps. Outer sect and servant disciples didn't matter enough.
Such was the cruelty of the cultivation world.
No talent, no power, no protection.
An Ze's soul lamp had been made by her own hand. She'd carried it with her all this time to keep him safe. It had never once been placed in the sect's hall.
Now, seeing him scream and thrash in panic made the lamp feel even more ridiculous.
Song Wanníng's smile faded. She was done wasting time.
She took a step back. The suppressive force she'd kept over the Wumeng Beast disappeared.
The beast lunged.
"Ah—!"
A chunk of flesh was ripped from An Ze's side. His screams pierced the forest.
She really meant to kill him.
He was truly afraid now.
Dignity, grudges, pride—it all vanished in the face of death.
He only wanted to live. That was all that mattered.
"Master… Master, please, save me…"
"Please—agh!"
The Wumeng Beast stomped on his leg. Bone turned to splinters. Skin was shredded by its claws, left hanging like ragged cloth.
"Mas—Master, please…"
An Ze's body twisted in agony, eyes bulging, his face contorted into a ghastly mask.
He regretted everything.
If only he had begged Song Wanníng for mercy sooner, maybe this wouldn't be happening.
He regretted standing up for Senior Sister Ye.
If he hadn't done that, he would still be a proud core disciple.
He regretted it. Deeply.
"I… I was wrong—ugh!"
The beast's claw slammed into his stomach. His intestines spilled out, thick and blackened.
His eyes rolled back. No more words came.
The Wumeng Beast showed no mercy. It tore him apart, piece by piece.
Once the pain peaked, numbness took over. An Ze stared at Song Wanníng with bloodshot eyes, unwilling to die.
There wasn't a trace of pity in her gaze.
Not even the distant sympathy one might have for a stranger.
She looked at him like he was garbage. Cold. Emotionless.
Why?
They had once been master and disciple.
The Wumeng Beast dug into his chest and tore out his heart.
An Ze's body convulsed a few times, then went still.
The soul lamp flickered… and went out.
His dead eyes locked onto Song Wanníng, as if blaming her to the end.
The Wumeng Beast didn't stop. It bit into the corpse, gnawing and chewing until nothing remained but a pool of blood.
Only then did Song Wanníng raise an eyebrow.
"What a waste. A single spiritual root prodigy, too."
A faint sneer passed through her eyes. She crushed the soul lamp to ash.
From now on, there would be no ties left between her and An Ze. No debts, no guilt.
She looked into the distant sky, in the direction of Wentian Sect, and her smile deepened.
That sect was on shaky ground. Now was the perfect time to act.
Most disciples were innocent. She didn't want unnecessary bloodshed. Watching the sect fall from grace would be the cleanest punishment.
But…
Some people had gone too far.
And they would pay the price.