The little boy in Giralda’s arms had been quiet ever since he was brought here. Maybe it was because of something his mother had told him before hand, or may it was because he was a quiet child by nature, but either way, he hadn’t shown much of a reaction to anything.
Whether or not he understood what was happening was yet another mystery. He only clung his little hands to his mother’s slender neck, holding on tightly.
Percival didn’t notice the subtle actions of his son, nor did he notice the shifting of Giralda’s expressions. All he could feel was an endless, overflowing anger as the yang within him pulsed.
Of course, Dyon had sensed the type of technique Percival was learning, however, he didn’t take this as an excuse.
Dyon himself had been dealing with undying lust for decades. From the moment he integrated with his martial uncle’s blood essence, to the time it was multiplied manifold by integrating the Demon Sage’s blood, to even now… In fact, during the moments his soul was sealed, it was even more difficult to control, even to the point he ended up harming Ri when he absentmindedly fell into an abyss he just barely climbed out of.
What the hell did this extreme yang technique mean in the face of the blood of a Demon Qilin? What the hell did it mean in the face of the blood essence of one of the greatest body cultivators to ever exist?
Dyon would never accept that explanation. He wanted a real answer!
“Answer!” Dyon roared.
His patience was slowly running out. The more time passed, the weaker he felt. Even speaking was difficult after his vocal cords were nearly sliced completely apart by his own roar. He didn’t care for Percival’s hesitation.
It was only at this moment that those around began to understand that Dyon was serious. He wasn’t saying all of this simply to expose Percival, he truly wanted to know what it was that made humans seek darkness so willingly.
What was it about bullying the weak made you feel good? What was it about hurting someone else made you feel better?
A vicious cycle of evil, filling the world, all for a momentary sick pleasure?
The worst part was that Dyon could tell just as easily as King Cromwell that Giralda’s backing wasn’t simple. Even if she wasn’t a part of a top 20 quadrant, it was most definitely top 40 at the very least. What could a mere 74th quadrant do in the face of that? Even if it was more powerful than its ranking suggested.
He was not only harming those around with his evil, he could even end up hurting himself.
For what? Could Marco have really offended him to this extent? Could Giralda’s beauty really be so tempting? Could his lust really be so uncontrollable?
Suddenly, Percival’s anger boiled over to the point where he started laughing as gross veins of blue and green pulsed along his forehead.
Dyon frowned in disgust. This man dared to do the deed, yet is embarrassed to the point of irrational anger when his deeds are exposed. Is this really all the world has to offer? Nothing but hypocrites running off toward death at their fastest possible speed? If that’s the case, what is even the point?
‘Why did I even do this… Could I really have gotten any real answer out of a man like this?…’
“To think that there’d be such a naïve little boy in existence, and to think he’d come before me to flaunt his higher morality!” Percival’s voice trembled in rage as though he was teetering on the edge of insanity, he really couldn’t stand Dyon’s smug face.
“That cuckold Marko deserved to have his woman stolen. He dared to have a wife far more beautiful than he was strong. If it wasn’t me, someone else along the line would have taken her from him. I really would have liked to see if you would have dared strut into a sect within the top 30 – no, even 50 – had it been one of their princes that had taken her away.”
Percival sneered. “Of course you wouldn’t have dared. The only reason you came here to flaunt your status is because we are weak and you are strong. You imposed your will here because your fists are large enough. If we had been a top 50 sect. If we had had just a single dao formation expert. Even if we had a single peak celestial, no, even a high celestial, you would have died without a corpse!
“You ask me why? It’s obvious why! I did so because I could! Because my backing was stronger! Because my cultivation was stronger! Do I need another reason?!”
Dyon’s eye emotionlessly scanned Percival’s heaving figure.
Him? Not dare to do something? As long as he promised it, even if Giralda had been imprisoned within the depths of hell, he would have saved her. What nonsensical reasoning.
At that moment, a wave of cognitive dissonance assaulted Dyon’s senses.
‘Pride… Arrogance…’ In just that instant, Dyon’s normal disposition nearly burst through, making his chest ache.
“Since you believe that…” Dyon ignored the pain that seemed almost dull in comparison to the injuries ravaging his body. “How would you feel if I killed your son and tore the last string tethering the two of you?”
Percival’s eyes slightly wavered as Dyon’s arm reached out, but eventually turned steady once more.
“NO!”