Ge Panming took a deep breath, speaking with unprecedented calmness: “Isn’t it clear by now? We should never have been at odds. I am your weapon, and the direction you point is my battle target. You shouldn’t have abandoned me. You must bear this consequence.”
Lo Yingbai explained: “I didn’t mean to abandon you. It was just that you were contaminated with demonic energy and couldn’t remain in the Heavenly Court. I thought getting a position in the Underworld would be a good placement for you.”
But since you developed cracks while fighting alongside me, if you’re dissatisfied…”
“I’m not dissatisfied,” Ge Panming said, his expression gradually fading. “I want to be with you, to return to the past, before anything happened, to prevent those accidents from occurring. Everything is prepared. You just need to follow me.”
Lo Yingbai’s gaze moved from Ge Panming’s outstretched hand to the altar behind him: “Why deceive yourself?”
The endless flow of history moves forward, with no moment able to turn back against the great tide. What the white stone altar can do is not to reverse time, but to reshape a virtual world similar to the past.
Ge Panming did this, which was tantamount to wanting to imprison him and Luo Yingbai in a simulated cage.
Ge Panming’s gaze was cold: “You disagree?”
Luo Yingbai remained silent. Ge Panming suddenly moved like a shadow, reaching out to grab him: “You haven’t completely remembered! Otherwise, you wouldn’t treat me this way. Why can’t you remember?”
Luo Yingbai quickly dodged sideways, his knife slicing horizontally, passing close to Ge Panming’s neck.
“I can only recall fragments of the past, but my answer will not change. Why do you bother?”
Ge Panming laughed coldly, with a choked sob. He was not human, lifelong without desire, without emotion, without blood, without heat. The divine weapon was forged with only one belief: his master.
If a weapon cannot follow its faith and turns its blade against the one it should protect, what meaning would all its achievements have?
Ge Panming suddenly stopped, letting Luo Yingbai’s knife blade cut into his shoulder.
Blood gushed out. Luo Yingbai was stunned: “You—”
Ge Panming looked at him, with a strange smile, gripping the back of the knife and lifting it upward.
