(Riven)
Knowing that my boy was abused by those self-righteous pisses me off more than anything. I watched that boy get beaten black and blue–his dignity dragged through the mud like he was trash.
Authority gives cowards a mask, and I've seen too many wear it.
That ends today.
The first time I saw Sonny in those awful servant robes, he was sporting a bruise on his cheek. No one noticed. No one cares.
They call themself righteous cultivators.
I call them hypocrites–full of shit and drunk on their own power.
I taught Sonny how to use demon powers. I'm not worried about him going to the demon world.
That boy's a survivor–no matter what anyone says.
While he's gone, I've got unfinished business.
I stand atop the manor, wind slicing across my face. My gaze is sharp, deadly—tracking fools who walk the streets unaware. A demon walks among them. And someone's about to learn what that means.
