Just a Fool Who Moved Himself

The demonic mask slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground with a sharp metallic ring.

Not particularly loud.

The sickly fervor that had sustained Yu Hui’s will crumbled the moment the mask fell away.

His body swayed, then toppled backward like a felled tree, kicking up a cloud of dust.

As the dust settled, his face—now utterly exposed—lay bare to the air.

Pale, haggard, and damnably familiar.

Jiang Xia’s breath hitched for an instant.

That face… it truly belonged to the old classmate he remembered, the one who had once stood beneath the academy’s great locust tree with him, brimming with ambition as they debated the future.

Something tightened in his chest, a dull ache spreading outward.

For a moment, Jiang Xia didn’t know how to judge this "old friend" before him.

Call him evil?

His grand theory about "preserving the last embers of human civilization" had been delivered with such righteous conviction, as if he were a martyr bearing the weight of salvation.

And true, he hadn’t outright revealed the truth of the "Abyss" to the public, sparing society from collapse.

But then—why attack the Martial Exam?

Jiang Xia knew Old Shen’s nature too well. The man was steeped in a stubborn arrogance, a self-assured superiority.

His logic was probably this:

"If even we ‘elites’—battle-hardened and seasoned—are at a loss against this crisis, how can we pin our hopes on a bunch of fledglings who’ve yet to step into the real world?"

"What a joke. Since your higher-ups plan to throw them into the ‘Abyss’ as cannon fodder sooner or later, I might as well cull these ‘so-called hopes’ now. Maybe then you’ll finally abandon this farce and consider my proposal."

But to call him good?

Then look at what he’d done over the years. Not a single act could be remotely described as "good."

Slaughtering innocent Martial Exam candidates?

Every one of them was a pillar of Great Xia’s future!

Or how about those twisted ritual attacks on government institutions?

Squandering already-strained strategic resources just to fight him—resources that should’ve been spent on the front lines against the Abyss!

And let’s not forget his poisonous rhetoric, his cult-like following, his seduction of others toward ruin.

Every single deed!

Any one of them was enough to land him in prison for life, with no chance of redemption.

No matter how noble his words sounded, they couldn’t mask the blood on his hands or the atrocities he’d committed.

One term summed it up perfectly:

"Traitor."

How bitterly ironic.

Once, they’d burned with the same fire, willing to sacrifice everything to protect humanity’s future.

Now? One had become a guardian, defending a city.

The other had fallen so far as to become a remnant of the "Heralds," an enemy of civilization itself, despised by all.

Fate had a cruel sense of humor.

Jiang Xia bent down slowly and picked up the cold metal mask.

Its design was grotesque, the mouth stretched into an impossibly wide grin, as if mocking the world itself.

His fingers traced the rough, icy surface.

So, this sneering demon’s face—

Was it the mask…

Or Old Shen’s true visage now?

Jiang Xia’s voice was low. "I’ll admit, I’ve never been as quick-witted or silver-tongued as you."

"Back at the academy, whenever we argued over those bullshit theories, I never won a single damn debate!"

"But this time…"

"I have to ask."

"Once you put this mask on… could you really take it off as easily as you claim?"

"Isn’t it just another mask over your heart?"

"You’re drowning in pessimism."

"So why snuff out the hope others carry?"

"Why force everyone to embrace your despair?"

"Do you still see yourself as some tragic, misunderstood hero, martyred by the world’s ignorance?"

His voice suddenly sharpened.

"Real heroes are the ones who march straight into hell—knowing it’s suicide, knowing they’ll die—and still stand tall, teeth gritted, leaving bloody footprints as they go, laughing in death’s face!"

"You want to talk about sacrifice?"

"Fuck your sacrifice! Every year, how many soldiers, researchers, nameless souls burn to ash on the Abyss’s front lines, defending hundreds of millions behind them?"

"Every last one of them is worth ten of you! Your so-called ‘sacrifice’ is nothing!"

"You had the guts to lay this life-or-death trap for me…"

"So why not have the guts to stand with me at the Abyss’s edge and die properly?"

With that, Jiang Xia hurled the mask to the ground with a violent heave!

Before it could bounce back up—

His foot came down, crushing it into fragments with a decisive crack.

Breathing hard, he ground the shards under his heel, twisting viciously.

Men like Old Shen disgusted him more than outright villains.

Against pure evil, Jiang Xia could strike without hesitation, without a flicker of remorse.

Kill them? Good riddance. Justice served.

But this kind of hypocrite—hiding behind a "noble" cause while committing atrocities, draping their sins in righteousness?

He didn’t understand their philosophical gymnastics, nor did he care to.

He lived by one simple truth.

Hope wasn’t something handed out like charity. It wasn’t earned by extinguishing others’ hope to prove your own "enlightenment"!

Hope was seized. Fought for. Earned.

Jiang Xia spat on the wrecked mask. "Tch. Thought you were something back then. Turns out you’re just a fool who fell for his own act."

Only after venting his fury did he turn to the guardians of Shan Cheng and Cloud City.

He clasped his fists. "My thanks for the assist. I’ll skip the pleasantries—I owe you both. Next round’s on me."

"He lured me out for a reason. There’s a bigger play here. I need to get back."

"Need reinforcements?" Shan Cheng asked. "Though I can’t stay long. My district’s been restless lately—those scum are stirring again."

Cloud City’s guardian remained silent as ever. With a flick of her wrist, droplets of blood arced through the air before she sheathed her dagger, hesitating briefly.

Jiang Xia waved them off. "No need."

"I’ve already called in others."

His voice still hung in the air as he vanished, a streak of lightning racing toward the Martial Exam’s origin site.