My female disciples are scary

Once upon a time, there was a certain sword cultivator.

Holding a sword in his hand, he aspired to protect the world he lived in.

For that reason, he gained power.

As he gained power, he realized that it was not enough.

So, he trained and trained to seek more.

Seasons passed.

Months turned to years. Years turned to decades.

Yet he never stopped.

When he finally gained enough, he realized that the world he tried to protect had already changed.

But he did not try to save it.

He simply ran instead.

He betrayed and felt betrayed.

He drowned in his power and forgot why he gained so.

He ran from his responsibility.

He ran from his plane.

He ran from his identity.

He thought he could change.

He believed he could start over again.

Yet, when a group of normal residents in Spiritual plane placed their foot above his bloodied chest, he realized that nothing had changed.

He was the same runaway he was then.

One of those people who beat him to submission came near to his ears and asked him once in a volume so little that you would think it was a whisper.

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