He didn't return simply because he was delayed by matters. Though he wasn't coming back now, he would surely return someday. Until her mother's death. Before this, in some corner of Kim Gyeong-joo's heart, she still held fantasies about her father. Because the thoughts her mother instilled in her, combined with years of pent-up emotions from not seeing her father, wrapped together to preserve those illusions. That her father was simply delayed by matters, hence his absence. But today, Lu Ding's words completely shattered those fantasies. Yet Kim Gyeong-joo wasn't a fool either. But she wouldn't believe everything blindly. Lu Ding noticed this too. He continued: "You may doubt my words, but lies require more lies to cover up." "Later, you can visit the Diancang Sect and ask your aunt why she schemed against your mother - was it out of jealousy?" "You can also confront your father at Tianxing Group - why did he abandon your mother and you? Has he forgotten your existence?" "But all these require one prerequisite - the power to face them directly." "Do you have that power...?" Kim Gyeong-joo was speechless. Lu Ding slowly descended from his throne: "I'm not your deity, but I'll grant you divine power - the means to confront them." "Of course, I'm no philanthropist either. My price is simple - after helping you claim the heir's position, I'll take what I want." His voice grew closer until he stood right before Kim Gyeong-joo. She gazed at this man who seemed to have stepped out of an ancient painting, now extending his hand toward her. "Don't you want power? To visit the Diancang Sect and demand why they did this to your mother?" "Don't you want power? To face your father and ask if he ever once thought of you, or remembered your mother even briefly?" "Don't you want power? To personally execute those who tormented you, making them regret their actions with their dying breaths?" Such words, such scenes, had played out countless times in domestic female-oriented novels. Perhaps to Great Han citizens, these lines might sound ineffective. Utter them, and they'd laugh - such tropes are overused in fiction. But this was Wei Gao. Their novel culture hadn't reached such saturation yet. So Kim Gyeong-joo's emotions gradually stirred like rising waves. She followed Lu Ding's words in her thoughts. Reflecting on the injustice her mother suffered, the roots of her own suffering. She couldn't blame her mother - her mother loved her dearly, and was equally unfortunate. But she could demand answers from everyone else. Why treat her this way? Why treat her mother this way? Yet to demand answers, she needed power!! Power like that of the gods. This man, gentle as a summer evening breeze, was her only remaining light in the darkness. The sole lifeline she could grasp while bearing such burdens. This light, this hand. To Kim Gyeong-joo, they represented hope. If this was a transaction, her only response could be: "I accept." She reached out and clasped Lu Ding's hand. The surreal surroundings gradually faded. Kim Gyeong-joo found herself back in the damp, dim room. While Lu Ding - this godlike man in her eyes - now stood facing her. Fat tears rolled down Kim Gyeong-joo's cheeks. "Thank goodness... it wasn't a dream... it's real... you're still here..." How terrified she'd been that everything was just a dream - the beautiful yet fragile kind that vanishes upon waking, leaving nothing behind. For years, through countless dreams, Kim Gyeong-joo had fantasized about salvation. Now it had taken form. The faceless savior from her recurring nightmares now had a tangible, reachable face. In that instant, the distinction between reality and illusion became irrelevant to her. What did truth or falsehood matter? Her life had been buried with her mother's corpse at age ten - her mother the tree before the grave, herself the wildflower swaying at its roots. Everything since had been a moldy, dark hell. To her, the world was hell, every encounter infernal, others were hell itself. So when this light pierced through, she could live for it. Even if it meant trading one hell for another - it didn't matter. At least... she'd seen the light. But Lu Ding wouldn't lead her from one hell to another. Using then discarding people wasn't his style. Kim Gyeong-joo was innocent. Lu Ding wouldn't deceive her, couldn't stoop to it. Perhaps this was just Lu Ding's mission, but for Kim Gyeong-joo, it was genuine salvation. The gentle male voice snapped her from reverie. Wiping tears, she asked: "Divine One, what do you mean? Ready for what?" Lu Ding replied: "To take revenge." "Of course. With that fruit knife in your hand - stab that blow you didn't dare deliver earlier. Or those several blows." His slender fingers pierced straight through the concrete and mineral wall, Yanking the eavesdropper pressed against it into the room by his collar. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs NoveIＦire.net Debris scattered across the floor. The tank-topped creep flailed: "Fuck it!! What's happening?! Let go!! HELP!! HELP!!!!" Lu Ding held him aloft effortlessly. "Go on. Stab him. Aim for heart, lungs, kidneys - unleash your rage blow by blow. Ask why he tormented you." "You merely sought refuge in this dim room, bothering no one. What right had he to bully you?" While speaking, Lu Ding traced Spiritual Energy patterns across the man's body. His words agitated Kim Gyeong-joo, veins creeping across her eyes. The knife plunged - cold steel piercing warm flesh. This wasn't just a stab at a pervert, but the first courageous step toward her future actions. "WHY?! Why torment me?!?!"