It's an almost holy blasphemy. He thought that the love he felt for his purest disciple was not ordinary tenderness, but a sticky, rusty obsession that wanted to sew his long-broken idol together inch by inch with threads of resentment and lust, and then completely possess it.
He, Liu Qingwei, was once the creator of that obsession, but now he has become its most perfect sacrifice. The dark marriage cage is more like a carefully decorated altar than a prison. His disciple Lan Zang, the mad dog he raised with his own hands, offered him this sick offering with rotten dolls and hot tears day after day. Every infiltration of demonic energy is not a simple revenge, but a desperate ritual that attempts to strip the "Master", the skin veil that the boy has longed for from a long time ago, from his flesh and blood, and imprint it into his soul to achieve an eternal and deformed fusion.
He hated this imprisoned spirit and flesh, and hated the humiliation that made even death a luxury. However, in this extreme pain, he tasted a strange and perfect closed loop. He finally became the ultimate work of art of his own ambition and ruthlessness, worshiped by the purest, unadulterated madness. Their relationship has long gone beyond master and apprentice, beyond love and hate, and has become a symbiosis that parasitizes and gnaws at each other.
When he ran away, he did not escape hell, but took the altar with him. That dank, demonic aura had seeped into his bone marrow and became part of his new life. Every breath he takes carries the aftertaste of madness; every heartbeat is an echo of the unfinished ritual.
He cannot escape this love, because this love has long turned into an unhealable wound in his skin, his bones, and his soul.
He is the living tomb of the love and hate of the dog he raised.
Motto: Good people are rewarded
