"YOU!!!" Their faces turned dark, fury barely held at bay.
"You assume our words carry weight only because we defeated you?" Shenlian Yingyue's voice cut through the air like a honed blade. "How small your understanding is. We speak this way not from borrowed arrogance, but because truth needs no victory to stand."
Their silence was thick, choking. Crimson eyes burned with the embers of shattered pride—not just at their loss, but at the realization that even before the battle, they had already been beneath notice.
The wind carried away the dust of their defiance, leaving only the raw, bleeding truth behind.
"This isn't arrogance or ignorance. This is power." Shenlian Yingyue's voice was calm, each syllable a blade. "Didn't you claim that power speaks first? We rely on our own strength to protect ourselves—to take what we deserve—not the pity of others. And you?"
