Krogh's gaze intensified, the kindness in his eyes now underscored by something generous and kind. His voice, when he spoke again, was intelligent mentor guiding his disciple to select a blade of the finest steel.
"This Ju-On..." The swordsman shook his head with what appeared to be genuine sorrow, "A truly formidable ghost being. Not of our kind, its alien mind brimming with pure malice beyond human's comprehension."
He sighed, the very picture of a weary warrior burdened by the world's darkness. "Which is why, my dear Junior Brother," he continued, his tone shifting to one of confidential alliance, "I must ask this service of you."
Krogh leaned closer still, his next words delivered with the quiet intensity of a sacred vow.
"Eliminate Donovan Valdez!"
"Let the blame fall upon the Ju-On."
"Thus, shall my soulbound sword recognize its true master once more." The Swordmaster's smile returned, beatific and warm.
"A simple solution that spares us both considerable trouble, wouldn't you say?"
"And as for you..." Krogh's eyes twinkled with what looked like generous amusement, "The Cosmic Path Foundation Establishment Technique shall be yours all the sooner. A most... satisfactory arrangement for all involved, I should think."
Lordi's mind churned with conflicting emotions as he stood before Krogh Hanz, his thoughts twisting in unnatural ways.
At first, he had been desperate to escape this place as soon as he could, to put as much distance as possible between himself and this man, dismissing Krogh's words as nothing more than empty persuasion. But then, something shifted—something wrong.
This high realm cultivator's voice, smooth and reassuring, seeped into his mind like honeyed lullaby, and before Lordi could resist, the logic of Krogh's arguments settled into his thoughts with disturbing ease.
Yet...
Upon reflection, the man's words were indeed well-reasoned.
Every word, every gentle assurance, felt right, as if Lordi had been blind before and was only now seeing the truth.
The Krogh Hanz in the Ancient Stone Well, Moon Reflection Mirror, had been a high handed monster—a cold, arrogant tyrant who bound Lordi with crimson threads of malice, forcing him into servitude with cruel indifference.
That thing called himself Krogh was a creature of domination, a being who saw others as nothing more than tools to be used and discarded.
Lordi had hated him or it with every fiber of his being, his anger a burning coal in his chest.
And yet…
This man right before him now was nothing like that.
This Krogh Hanz was refined, magnanimous, his every gesture exuding wisdom and kindness.
This Krogh Hanz's words were patient, his gaze encouraging, like a mentor guiding a lost disciple.
This Krogh Hanz felt trustworthy, his presence almost soothing.
But then—like a bolt of lightning—horror struck Lordi as he realized the sheer wrongness of his own thoughts.
His mind recoiled in panic, his pulse hammering in his throat.
What the fuck is happening to me?!
Why am I suddenly justifying Krogh's words?
Why am I so eager to fucking obey?
The shift was too sudden, too unnatural. It wasn't just persuasion—it was as if his very instincts were being rewritten. A cold sweat broke out across his skin as the dread settled deep in his bones.
"Holy fucking shit! What kind of mind-fuckery is this?!"
Lordi's inner voice screamed in raw, panicked fury. His hands trembled as a wave of revulsion crashed over him.
Fuck me! This isn't me...
This isn't my fucking thought process!
His survival instincts roared to life, a desperate, snarling defiance rising in his chest.
"Fuck! Shit! Hell! The second I get out of here, I'm using the AllFullOS One-Click-Cultivation and grinding the Bone Tempering Art until my goddamn bones shatter if that's what it takes to purge this bullshit from my head!"
The terror wasn't just from Krogh—it was from the realization that his own mind was no longer entirely his own. And that was the most horrifying thing of all.
Krogh's voice carried the weight of deep conviction, each syllable resonating with a warmth that belied the gravity of his words. His tone was firm yet kind, like a seasoned general rallying his troops before a decisive battle—earnest, persuasive, and brimming with sincerity.
"The Ju-On is no ordinary curse or resentment," he said, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "It is the most lethal scourge to have ever befallen our land, a monstrous force that has left nothing but devastation in its wake."
"My entire clan—men, women, and children—were slaughtered like cattle, their souls trapped in perpetual torment..."
"Even our holy sect's disciples, brave and righteous as they were, fell one by one, treated as nothing more than playthings for this abomination. This ghostly fiend has not only consumed the very essence of the Hanz Clan but has also twisted our ancestral estate into a snare, luring in our unsuspecting comrades to their doom."
"If we do not destroy this pure evil, if we do not cut it down root and stem, then the souls of my kin will never know peace, and I—your senior brother—will forever bear the shame of failing them, unable to face our fallen brothers and sisters in the afterlife." His words were heavy with grief, yet burning with resolve, as if he were baring his very soul to Lordi.
With a weary sigh, Krogh pressed on, his voice softening but losing none of its urgency. "The truth is, the Ju-On and I are locked in a stalemate—a battle of wills and power that neither of us can yet overcome."
"It has rendered us both immobile, trapped in the throes of Tribulation Transcendence, unable to strike the final blow. But there is still hope. If we can reclaim my Sword of Red Run, the blade bound to my very soul, then we can turn the tide."
"Only then can we purge this abomination from existence, finally bringing an end to my clan's suffering and ensuring the safety of our remaining sect brothers and sisters. Without it…" His voice dropped lower, thick with warning.
"Even you, Junior Brother, though you stand by my side now, are not safe. A single misstep, the slightest lapse in vigilance, and the Ju-On will claim you as it has claimed so many others." His words were not just a warning—they were a plea, a heartfelt call to arms, infused with the desperate hope of a man who had seen too much death and could bear no more.
Lordi stood frozen, his mind torn between two violently opposing instincts—one of deep reverence for the Krogh before him, and another of sheer terror at the unnatural shift in his own thoughts.
Every word from Krogh Hanz's lips resonated with such conviction, such righteousness, that Lordi couldn't help but feel a swelling admiration.
The man's voice carried the weight of a seasoned leader, warm yet commanding, like a general rousing his soldiers before a desperate battle. It was sincere—so damn honest—that Lordi's skepticism melted away without resistance.
This Krogh Hanz was noble, a protector, a man who had suffered unimaginable loss and still fought for justice.
How could Lordi not respect him? How could he not want to stand by his side?
Krogh's logic was flawless, the emotion genuine.
Lordi had been utterly moved.
But weirdly his skin crawled with the sickening realization that his thoughts were no longer his own.
"Fuck! FUCK! What the hell is this?!" Lordi's mind screamed, a raw, panicked curse tearing through his internal monologue. "Since when do I just agree with some stranger's bullshit like a brainwashed zealot?! This isn't me—this isn't fucking me!"
Lordi's heart pounded in his chest like a war drum, a relentless rhythm of dread and helplessness as he fought against the unnatural fury seizing his mind. His thoughts were a storm of panic, a desperate internal scream clawing at the edges of his sanity—
—"Run! Get out of here! Use the One-click-cultivation and escape to cultivate the Bone Tempering Art in secret! Survive!"—
Yet his body, his voice, even his very will were no longer his own.
The malice towards that Ju-On slithered through Lordi's consciousness like a venomous serpent, twisting his fear into bloodthirsty resolve, his self-preservation into reckless, burning hatred.
When he spoke, his voice was not his own—yet it carried the weight of absolute conviction, dripping with venomous wrath. "You're absolutely right, Senior Brother Hanz!"
The words tore from his throat, raw and fervent, his eyes alight with a murderous gleam that was not entirely his own. His gaze locked onto the distant rear mountain, where the Ju-On lurked, and his fingers twitched with the urge to rend flesh from bone, to drown the cursed spirit in its own malice. But beneath the surface, his soul screamed in protest, a prisoner in his own body.
Then, without warning, his lips curled into a snarl, and the words spilled forth like poison: "I'll go kill Donovan Valdez Right Now! Right Here!"
The declaration was ironclad, his voice trembling not with fear, but with the white-hot intensity of a vendetta that felt both alien and all-consuming. It was as if the Ju-On had not just manipulated him—it had rewritten his very soul, grafting false memories of unimaginable suffering onto his mind.
The image of Krogh Hanz's slaughtered kin, of violated loved ones, of honor drenched in blood—all of it burned in Lordi's chest, fueling a rage storm that was not his own.