The anger in Feng Bei's eyes had long since faded. She suddenly found herself reminiscing about their ten years in the valley—a simple, idyllic life far from the mortal world. As she thought about it, she even felt a faint pang of regret for escaping the Cannibal Painting. Her heart a complicated knot, Feng Bei sighed softly. "I understand. But he..."
"A hundred years ago, the world was in chaos. Many people dreamed of becoming the Emperor. Old Chu was one of them, and didn't it all come to nothing in the end? Cheng Xiao killed the Emperor, so what? Someone has to fill the position. Get rid of one Emperor, and another will just pop up. The Emperor isn't a matter of inheritance; the position is more like a 'job.' There will always be someone fortunate enough to stand above the countless masses. If not, why don't you be the Emperor?"
Feng Bei thought for a moment, then shook her head forcefully. "I won't."
