Chapter 163: THE WEIGHT OF GREED

Chapter 163 — THE WEIGHT OF GREED

The pale plane did not fracture.

It did not tremble.

It did not burn.

It simply grew silent.

Long Hao remained on one knee.

His breathing was uneven, sharp, unstable in a way it had never been in battle. His hands trembled—not from physical injury, not from exhaustion, but from something far worse.

Memory.

Not images.

Not visuals.

Weight.

A crushing, suffocating weight.

He remembered the choice.

Not the details of how steel met flesh.

Not the sounds of impact.

But the decision.

The willingness.

That was worse.

His fingers dug into the empty ground beneath him as if trying to anchor himself to something solid.

“They trusted me,” he whispered.

The words barely made sound.

Zehell stood before him, silent.

Not laughing.

Not mocking.

Just watching.

Long Hao’s shoulders began to shake.

For the first time since childhood—

He cried.

Not a single tear sliding quietly.

He broke.

His breath shattered into uneven gasps as tears blurred his vision. His chest tightened, constricted, as if invisible hands pressed inward.

“I killed them,” he said.

The confession tore through him.

He pressed his forehead to the pale ground.

The image of Shadow Queen’s hand reaching toward his face.

The steadiness in the previous Shadow King’s gaze.

The disappointment.

Not hatred.

Not fear.

Disappointment.

He remembered that clearly.

And it destroyed him.

“They raised me,” he choked. “They chose me.”

The boy from the alley.

The starving child.

They had given him purpose.

Structure.

Balance.

And he—

He chose power.

A hollow laugh escaped him.

Except it wasn’t laughter.

It was something breaking.

“I became what I said I never would.”

The pale plane echoed faintly with his breathing.

Zehell did not interrupt.

Because this part—

Was not hers.

It was his.

The Memory Unlocks

Something shifted behind him.

A presence.

A familiar one.

Not Zehell.

Not the pale expanse.

Rahel stepped forward.

Silent.

Calm.

Observing.

Long Hao’s head lifted slightly.

His vision blurred through tears.

Rahel’s gaze met his.

There was no accusation there.

No pity.

Only clarity.

“You are ready,” Rahel said quietly.

“For what?” Long Hao’s voice cracked.

“To see.”

The world around him did not change.

But his mind did.

Something unlocked.

Not violently.

Not explosively.

Like a door opening slowly.

And with it—

Came thought.

Not images.

Not visuals.

Understanding.

He remembered standing in the chamber after it was done.

He remembered the quiet.

The unbearable quiet.

He remembered realizing that the fragment had not forced him.

It had amplified him.

His desire.

His hunger.

He remembered the want.

That was the worst part.

He had wanted it.

He had justified it.

He had believed he deserved more.

More than Shadow Realm.

More than tradition.

More than limitation.

The fragment did not create greed.

It revealed it.

He saw himself thinking—

“They will slow me down.”

“They will seal me.”

“They are small.”

Those thoughts had not been whispered into him.

They had already existed.

He began shaking harder.

“I chose it,” he whispered.

Rahel nodded once.

“Yes.”

The word cut.

Zehell remained silent.

Long Hao’s mind continued unfolding.

He remembered walking through the corridors afterward.

Not in madness.

Not in chaos.

In cold clarity.

He remembered thinking—

“I can rebuild better.”

“I can rule better.”

“I am beyond them.”

He remembered the moment of hesitation.

The one second where Shadow Queen said his name.

Not Shadow King.

Not title.

“Long Hao.”

That second had been real.

He could have stopped.

He did not.

He closed his eyes tightly.

“Stop,” he whispered.

But the thought continued.

He remembered kneeling after it was done.

Not from grief.

From shock.

From the realization that power tasted bitter.

And then—

Fear.

Fear of what he had become.

Fear of what others would see.

Fear of the teenage boy’s eyes.

He remembered choosing to fracture.

Not because he was innocent.

Because he could not live with himself.

He erased memory.

Not to protect others.

To protect himself.

That realization shattered him completely.

He screamed.

Not outward.

Inward.

A silent, soul-ripping scream.

“I did it.”

The admission hung heavy.

Zehell finally spoke.

“Yes.”

Blame

Long Hao’s head snapped upward.

His tears had not stopped.

“You manipulated me.”

The accusation was desperate.

Childlike.

He needed something else to blame.

Rahel did not react immediately.

“You manipulated me,” he repeated.

“You placed the fragment there.”

“You called to me.”

“You tempted me.”

Rahel’s gaze remained steady.

“I did nothing.”

The words were simple.

“You saw the fragment,” she continued.

“And you wanted it.”

“I was overwhelmed!”

“No.”

The denial was calm.

“You were amplified.”

“That is different.”

Long Hao’s jaw trembled.

“You twisted me.”

“No.”

Her voice sharpened slightly.

“You were always twisted.”

The words landed like a slap.

He flinched.

“A child who starves,” she continued, “does not forget hunger when fed.”

The pale plane darkened faintly.

“You were a child from the slums.”

The words echoed.

“You survived by wanting more.”

“More food.”

“More safety.”

“More control.”

“That hunger became your strength.”

“And your weakness.”

Long Hao’s breathing slowed slightly.

But the tears continued.

“When you saw the Anchor fragment,” Rahel said, “it did not create desire.”

“It removed your restraints.”

“The dark side you speak of?”

“That was never external.”

“It was yours.”

Long Hao clenched his fists.

“No.”

“Yes.”

She stepped closer.

“Power was never enough for you.”

“You wanted supremacy.”

“You wanted to stand above Heaven itself.”

“You told yourself it was evolution.”

“But beneath it?”

She looked directly into his eyes.

“It was greed.”

The word echoed across the pale plane.

Greed.

Not destiny.

Not corruption.

Greed.

Long Hao shook his head violently.

“I worked for everything.”

“Yes.”

“You earned strength.”

“Yes.”

“But when offered something beyond effort…”

She let the sentence hang.

“You took it.”

He dropped his gaze.

Rahel’s voice grew colder.

“A kid from the slums always remains a kid from the slums.”

The statement struck deeply.

“You can dress him in silk.”

“You can give him a throne.”

“But if he never confronts his hunger—”

“He will devour the world.”

Silence.

“You cannot be trusted,” she finished quietly.

The words hung in the air.

Long Hao felt something fracture again.

Not memory.

Identity.

“I can change,” he whispered.

“Can you?”

The question lingered.

Not cruel.

Not mocking.

Honest.

Long Hao pressed his hands against his face.

His shoulders shook.

He remembered the boy from the alley.

The one who had answered “Power” without hesitation.

He remembered thinking that hunger was strength.

He remembered believing that control would protect him.

He had never asked why he wanted it.

He just chased it.

And when the Anchor offered more—

He didn’t hesitate.

“I destroyed them,” he said.

“Yes.”

“I destroyed myself.”

“Yes.”

The pale plane remained still.

Long Hao lowered his hands slowly.

His eyes were red.

Raw.

Not the eyes of a sovereign.

Not the eyes of a king.

The eyes of a man who finally saw himself clearly.

“I don’t want to be that person.”

Rahel’s gaze softened slightly.

“Then stop pretending you weren’t.”

Silence.

“Accept it.”

“Accept that the monster was you.”

“Accept that the greed was yours.”

“Only then can you choose differently.”

Long Hao swallowed.

Hard.

The weight did not lift.

It settled.

He would carry it.

The memory would not disappear again.

The guilt would not vanish.

The pale plane brightened slightly at the edges.

Zehell watched him carefully.

The laughter was gone.

The villainous sharpness faded.

This was no longer accusation.

This was reckoning.

Long Hao stood slowly.

His knees were unsteady.

But he stood.

He did not deny it.

He did not blame Heaven.

He did not blame the fragment.

He did not blame Rahel.

He whispered only one thing.

“I was greedy.”

The admission echoed.

And for the first time—

The pale plane did not tremble in instability.

It steadied.

Because truth had been spoken.

But far above—

Beyond the pale expanse—

Beyond memory—

Something stirred.

Because a man who accepts his darkness…

Is far more dangerous than one who denies it.

[Chapter ENDS]

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep