Her fifth daughter died, so she deleted his bloodline. novel Chapter 137

Chapter 32

As I headed for the second floor, the cleaver in my arms began to tremble.

I could feel his emotions.

I cradled the blade as gently as if I were holding his head.

“What is it, honey?”

Inside this dungeon, Julian’s consciousness was anchored to the knife.

He could not walk beside me, but he had been with me every step of the way.

At first, I thought he was jealous because I had hugged the young dancer.

But a moment later, his thoughts flooded my mind.

This place is wrong. These monsters are suffering. They are trapped here against their will.”

“I want to destroy it.”

What a coincidence.

I felt the same way.

I kissed the cold steel of the blade, tucked it away, and continued to the second floor.

The room was occupied by a young woman riddled with bloody stab wounds.

She was curled in a corner, her face buried in her knees, sobbing.

She was a ghost.

I felt no fear.

I walked over and sat down beside her, mirroring her posture.

I bought two milk teas from the system store and offered her one.

She looked up, her eyes blood-red, and stared at the cup.

Then she took it and drank in silence.

‘I haven’t tasted this in years,” she whispered after a long pause.

Thank you.”

Chapter 32

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Once she opened up, the story poured out of her.

She had been studying abroad with her best friend.

Her friend had started dating a gambler who constantly demanded money.

To hide from him, the friend moved into the girl’s apartment.

But the boyfriend, crazed by debt, tracked them down.

He showed up with a knife, demanding money.

The girl tried to protect her friend and was stabbed thirty-three times.

She died on the spot.

But the worst part was not the attack itself.

It was the fact that she could have survived.

When the boyfriend appeared, her best friend had locked both of them outside the apartment.

Blood trailed under the door as the girl screamed for help, yet her friend still wouldn’t let her in.

She died alone in the hallway.

Later, in front of everyone, the so-called best friend insulted the girl’s grieving mother.

“She wanted to be a hero,” the friend had said. “What does that have to do with me?”

The mother just wanted justice.

Tell me,” the ghost asked, tears of blood streaming down her face.

“Did I bring this on myself? Was it wrong to help her?”

She drank the blood and tears mixed with her tea.

I pulled out a tissue and gently wiped her face.

“You did nothing wrong. She committed the sin. You paid the price.”

“Kindness is never a crime.”

“But times have changed. Helping others is not the priority anymore.”

“The first rule is assessing if someone is worth saving.”

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