Yun You's questioning was like a heavy hammer, pounding fiercely on Yang Lie's heart.

The memories he had long buried were also deeply unearthed.

Spring of 2076, in the slums of Nest City No. 3 Lower City, indiscriminate slaughter...

It was the greatest variable in his life, and the root event that allowed him to rise from an ordinary person to the master of a district.

The deceased ones Yun You mentioned also appeared before his eyes.

Yang Lie doesn't have a very good memory, especially when drunk, often forgetting what he intends to do.

But he remembers quite clearly those weaklings who died at his hands.

Over the years, the number of people he personally killed is not less than eighty, if not a hundred.

The vast majority reveal their weakest side when facing death, abandoning dignity, honor, and emotion.

But the couple was different.

Though they were unwilling, and of course feared death, yet they did not discard their humanity, choosing to face death calmly.

This should not be a person's demeanor before death, at least not for a commoner.

It was Yang Lie's first taste of "failure."

He killed the husband first, then murdered the wife, afterward fled as if defeated, setting fire to the room intending to obliterate the unpleasant memories.

Yang Lie still remembers the couple's expressions before dying.

They looked at the flames engulfing the room, regret glimmering in their eyes, but ultimately, an odd "comfort" filled them, as if all they strived for wasn't in vain.

They finally looked at a photograph, Yang Lie saw it too.

It was a family photo.

Taken in the alley downstairs, just a moment in the life of the family of three without flashy backgrounds or effects.

The husband wore somewhat yellowish overalls, covered in patches and indelible stains, appearing messy but standing tall before his family.

The wife wore an apron, her longstanding illness making her complexion pale, seemingly fragile, contrasting with the woman who dared to stop Yang Lie's knife with her bare hands, yet in one aspect similar; facing any unjust fate, she would never complain, silently accepting.

Their child was a lively, adorable black-haired little girl, sitting on her father's shoulders, flashing a "yay" gesture to the camera. Despite her cheap clothes and malnutrition-thinned body, her face carried a radiant smile that even made Yang Lie jealous.

A smile filled with careless joy, beautiful fantasies about future life and the world, an expression emerging solely from pure "love."

Morning sunlight broke through layers of exhaust-clouds, penetrating dense alleys, illuminating the shoulders of the three, like draping a golden robe over them.

Not even the coldness of Nest City or the hardships of life could obstruct this ray of light.

It pierced through all barriers, illuminating the hearts of the family of three, giving them hope.

Yet it failed to pierce the gloom in Yang Lie's heart, instead, it touched the reverse scale of the Apprentice Death God.

Furious, Yang Lie's sword light shattered the photograph, departing without a backward glance.

He thought the little girl in the photograph had died of illness or perished by accident, allowing the couple to face death calmly.

He didn't believe a ten-year-old girl could watch her parents die, without emotions stirring, causing any commotion.

And he searched, finding no trace of any survivors, thus he didn't think deeply, nor have the mood to ponder.

But he overestimated his perception ability and underestimated the girl's resilience.

When flames scorched her body, when hot wood and stone splashed on her, raising blister after blister, the girl didn't move.

When thick smoke choked her lungs, causing an unbearable discomfort threatening to tear open the chest, it didn't make her cry.

Until the couple took their last breath, the girl shed tears.

But still, she didn't make any sound, simply covering her mouth, staring daggers at Yang Lie, remembering his face.

Blood and tears mixed, killing off the weak soul.

...

"It's you!"

The memories return to the present, Yang Lie widens his eyes, finally realizing the identity of the girl before him.

This black-robed girl, her face shielded by a silver mask, exuding cold murderous intent, is indeed the lively, cute little girl he once ignored and envied.

But how could this be possible?

Yang Lie clearly remembers the little girl in the photo being so gentle, like a warm little sun with no sharp edges, never harming others, always accepting with goodwill and a smile.

The Apprentice Death God could even imagine how kind the girl was, let alone killing, she probably wouldn't even want to harm others.

How did she become like this?

Yang Lie gazed dumbly at the girl, subconsciously wanting to ask, but Yun You had no intention of answering, just coldly staring at him.

"..."

Yang Lie understood.

It all stemmed from him...

That day, the weak, kind girl died, perishing alongside her relatives in the inferno.

The one who survived was merely a spirit hell-bent on vengeance.

"You killed them."

"You took their lives."

"You caused their child to lose everything."

As Yang Lie recalled those memories, Yun You spoke again, coldly saying, "Say it out loud, I just want to hear you admit it."

"You killed him... you took her life, you caused their child to lose everything!"

"..."

Yang Lie hesitated momentarily, unsure if he should speak.

After all, the Apprentice Death God wasn't ultimately one to fear death, admitting his sins would be denying his past, wouldn't it?

He hesitated... but Yun You didn't allow him more time to ponder.

Swoosh—!

The girl swung her sword, slicing off Yang Lie's remaining right leg.

It was a mechanical prosthetic leg, however, to optimally integrate with his body, Yang Lie connected his pain nerves to it, so the pain of severance naturally transmitted to his brain.

"Still don't remember? Or unwilling to speak? No problem."

Yun You brushed off the blood from her sword, calmly stating, "I believe pain will loosen a person's tongue."

Having said that, she struck two more times, piercing the Death God's lung, making breathing more difficult; injuring his liver, rapidly sapping his strength.

"I don't enjoy torturing others."

"I would let my 'opponents' die cleanly and swiftly, but 'scum'..."

"You cannot die so easily, or else, what fun would there be for me?"

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