CHAPTER 164 — LIGHT AGAINST ANCHOR
The pale plane dimmed.
Not because Zehell commanded it.
Because Long Hao did.
His admission had drained him.
Greed.
The word echoed inside him like a tolling bell that refused to fade.
He stood there, hollowed out.
No defiance.
No calculation.
No sovereign arrogance.
Just a man stripped of illusion.
He looked at his hands.
These hands had reached for the chest.
These hands had chosen.
These hands had erased.
The weight pressed down on him until even standing felt dishonest.
"I don't deserve another chance," he whispered.
The pale plane responded.
Not with thunder.
With gravity.
His knees buckled.
He did not resist.
He let himself fall backward into the empty expanse.
His mind went quiet.
Dangerously quiet.
He wasn't fighting Zehell anymore.
He wasn't arguing.
He wasn't searching for redemption.
He was surrendering.
And that—
That was what Zehell had been waiting for.
Her expression shifted.
The softness vanished.
