I narrated the dull past I could see through instantly, tirelessly, to this tedious man.
He was boring.
Couldn't make conversation.
Just kept listening.
I talked about my parents, about the cripple, and about those six people who brought me tribulations, describing how they cried and begged for mercy before me and, failing that, cursed me out of frustration and anger.
I told it all to Abiao.
I knew I had no right to tell the Sect Hierarch, nor would he have the time to listen to my story.
If I told others, they would spread it around.
Abiao wouldn't.
He was moody and fierce-looking, having no friends at the sect normally.
"I hate it here."
Sitting on the barren mountain at the edge of the town, looking down from above.
I hate this place that birthed and raised me.
Hate it enough to want to obliterate it.
Abiao listened to me, his black eyes gleaming, still saying nothing.
Truly a dull fellow.
