He wished it was as simple as death. If that had been the case, he could've commuted his sentence to the Zhuming where they could've tossed him into the heart of the star with the rest of the unkillable Abominations of Abundance. That would've been it, and that would've been the end to this sham of a life. For months after the Quintet's official dissolution, he'd meditated on what it all meant, of the clarity that had finally arrived after Jingliu's years of brainwashing. In reality, it was just another part of him stripped away, an emphasis on the emptiness that had filled every hollow, bitter end of his person. There was nothing left but hatred and grief, a quest for vengeance that was too frustrating to be ended with their deaths. That idiot Jing Yuan had filled this man's head with buttery fantasies of repaid karmic debt, as if resealing the Arbor was enough. As if that was all it took.
"How many times do the Preceptors have to incite rebellion through deceit before it becomes clear that they may have... hastened the Sedition? Awfully convenient for them to have the means of supposedly reviving her, then to suddenly arrive on the scene at the perfect moment. And I'm supposed to believe that man just stumbled upon Shuhu's gore after the Pseudo-Sun annihilated everything?"