Reborn as a doomed corrupt official, with the executioner's blade about to fall, I glimpsed the “sickness” at the heart of this world.
Beneath Chaoge City lay a dragon’s corpse; atop the Star-Seizing Tower stood a demon that devoured kingdoms. Every noble in the city was “filth,” feeding on the dynasty’s rotting flesh.
They offered me riches and power, wanting me as a puppet on strings, a discarded piece on the board, a beast sent ahead to test the way.
I bowed my head and thanked them for the emperor’s grace. Then, when no one was watching, I opened my palm.
A trace of “pure white,” something that did not belong to this world, whispered in my hand:
“Shh... don’t rush.”
“Let them feed you a little longer.”
