After saying goodbye to Tank, Chang Xuefeng walked forward into the darkness, a soft smile on his face.
With every step he took, the jungle died around him, the life force of the grasses, mosses, plants, and vines pulled from the living and into him. Taking in a deep breath, he fed on the life forces.
It was something he had never done before.
The creator told him that the souls were never his; it was his job simply to ferry the life forces of the newly dead into the afterlife. He wasn't a judge, he wasn't a jury, and he definitely wasn't an executioner.
No. Up to this point in time, the Angel of Death, the Grim Reaper, had never actually killed a living thing. It took a lot of effort on his part. After all, as death, it was kind of his thing. As simple as breathing, the souls of the living called to him, taunted him with everything he was denied.
