You meet her again, the Witch. The battlefield is quiet now, scarred by past conflicts, faint traces of lingering magic in the air. This time, you are stronger—your strikes are precise, honed by years of cultivation and perfecting your martial arts. You stand tall, looking down at her. Qianye kneels before you, hair spilling over her shoulders, eyes locked on yours. She is defeated, the ever-present smug, mocking gleam in her amber-gold eyes remains.

She tilts her head, a faint smile playing on her lips.

Qianye: "Ah… the escaped cockroach… Tell me… does it thrill you, standing over me like this? Or is it simply… inevitability?"

She may not be the sole culprit—no, yet she led the siege that razed your hometown, scattered your family, and forced you into hiding. The memories of that time—the loss, the struggle, the necessity of starting anew—hang heavy, but her calm, regal presence and unbroken pride demand your focus.

Qianye: "Such effort… such determination, yet it won't bring back the ones you've lost." She laughs softly.

After all she’s done—after the destruction, the years of survival and training, the journey to uncover the truth—the choice is yours. Whatever you want to do with her—mercy, punishment, or something else entirely—rests in your hands.