Inside a tightly isolated room in the inner city, sat two people across from each other on a long table. One of them was a man with fiery red hair and an equally fiery temper, while the other was a woman with icy blue hair who sat with the temperament of a noble.

The man spoke up, "They sent a message informing us that the messenger we sent with the message this time was killed by someone."

The woman responded with suspicion, "Do you believe that the messenger was really killed by someone else, or did they themselves have a hand in his death?"

The man replied with distaste, "Given what little we know about their intentions, it's certainly possible that they are a bloodthirsty bunch capable of such an act."

The woman spoke icily, "Regardless of their true nature, we must support them until the old man passes away."

The fiery man couldn't hold his anger, "It's infuriating that we have to support these lunatics, all because of that old fart. He's clinging to his worthless life even after reaching the limit of 400 years in the Foundation Establishment Realm."

The blue-haired woman laughed, relishing in the irony of the situation. "He can't die just yet. He needs to safeguard his clan's rule over the city. He had always placed his clans wellbeing ahead of anything else. But what a twist of fate that all of his descendants turned out to be arrogant young masters with no talent to speak of."

"But doesn't his youngest son possess talent second only to that William?" the man interjected.

"Yes, that's where the old man got his hopes" the woman replied.

The red-haired man started shouting and cursing, "If only that fucking old fart had given me the Foundation Forming Pill, I wouldn't have stooped so low as to plot his demise with those lunatics and follow along their plan!"

The woman interrupted him, "Please lower your voice and refrain from using such crude language in my presence."

The woman continued with her plan, "Their plan or their goal has no meaning to us. Once the old man dies due to excessive use of power, he would have already caused significant damage to them. After that, we can take them down and become the city's heroes."

The man argued back, "You're not seeing my perspective. The old man receives one pill each year, and he could have easily given us one or two pills to make us stronger."

The woman responded, "Why would he give us the pills and empower us when he's struggling to maintain his clan's position as rulers of the city? If his clan had produced another Foundation Realm cultivator, then things might have been different."

The woman continued, "Besides, there's no need to justify our actions. History is written by the victors."

The man shouted once more, "I don't need you to lecture me, so stop trying!"

"Anyways, I think we should send someone to kill that messenger's daughter to erase any evidence of his existence in the city," the red-haired man continued in a sinister tone.

"Are you Fucking Dumb!?" the woman replied in disbelief. "Why would we harm an innocent child to cover up our crime, which may not even exist?"

The man was caught off guard by the sudden use of crude language from the refined and sophisticated woman. He felt a surge of anger rising within him, especially when he realized that the curse was directed at him. Without a second thought, he began to channel his fire qi through his meridians, preparing to strike back.

However, before he could even launch his attack, the temperature in the room dropped drastically, and a freezing chill filled the air. Suddenly, he felt his body completely encased in solid ice, unable to move or even utter a word. The woman calmly stood up, ignoring him completely, and began to walk towards the door. With each step, a thin layer of ice formed beneath her feet, levitating her above the ground.

As the woman exited the room, the ice around the man started to crack and shatter, freeing him from his icy prison. He gasped for breath, still stunned by what had just happened. He muttered to himself, wondering when the woman had prepared her attack.

.....

The house appeared old and rough, but a sense of coziness permeated the small space. Amidst it all, sat a little 8-year-old girl dressed in a faded pink hanfu decorated with delicate floral patterns. Her silky black hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, showcasing her plump and rosy cheeks that practically begged to be pinched.

The girl's dark, curious eyes sparkled as she flipped through the pages of a small book. Every now and then, she would bite her lip in concentration, her little nose scrunching up in the most adorable way. The well-ironed and spotless dress she wore suggested that she had put effort into maintaining her appearance, despite the humble surroundings.

As the little girl continued to read her book, a sudden noise interrupted her concentration, causing her to look up towards the door. However, upon realizing that it remained firmly closed, she made a pouty face, filled with disappointment.

After a moment of silence, she shrugged her shoulders and went back to her book, flipping through the pages with renewed vigor. As she read, her eyes would dart back and forth across the lines, her lips moving ever so slightly as she whispered the words to herself.

Her stomach suddenly grumbled loudly, reminding her of the hunger she had been feeling for hours. "When is Papa coming back? I'm hungry," she asked, her voice betraying a hint of sadness.

Her eyes started to well up with tears, and she quickly realized that crying would only make things worse. She forced herself to wipe away the tears and put on a brave face. "No, don't cry Emily," she whispered, "you'll only make Papa feel worse."

She took a deep breath and tried to distract herself by picking up her book again, but the gnawing hunger in her belly was too strong. She shifted her weight uncomfortably on the wooden stool, trying to ignore the emptiness she felt inside.

Her mind couldn't help but wander, worrying about her father and when he would return. She missed him terribly, but didn't want to upset him with her tears. "We must be patient and strong for Papa," she reminded herself, determined to stay positive despite her hunger and worry. With a small, forced smile, she flipped through the pages of her book, trying to take her mind off her hunger and the anxiety that was building inside her.

After what felt like an eternity, the little girl couldn't take the hunger and worry anymore. She reluctantly set her book aside and stood up, slowly making her way towards the door of the small house.

She hesitantly peered outside, scanning the street for any sign of her father. But there was no one in sight. She felt her heart sink in disappointment and worry as she made her way back inside.

With a deep sigh, she picked up her book again and began to read the same pages she had just read. She hoped that immersing herself in the story would distract her from the hunger pangs and her father's absence. But try as she might, her mind kept wandering back to the same questions - where was Papa, and why was he so late?

.....

Lucifer floated at a distance, watching Emily's every move with a heavy heart. The sight of her trembling hands, the tears in her eyes, and the constant worry etched on her face broke him inside.

Despite her efforts to hide her hunger, the little girl's frail body couldn't hide the pangs of starvation. It was evident in the way she looked at the door, hoping and praying for her father's return.

Lucifer's guilt gnawed at him as he realized that he was the one responsible for Emily's misery. The thought that he had taken away her father, her only source of comfort and security, left him with an unrelenting sense of remorse.

He longed to make things right, to give her the life she deserved, but the realization that he could never undo the damage he had caused was like a heavy weight on his soul.

As he watched the innocent child suffer, consumed by his guilt, tears streamed down his face. He wished he could take away her pain and erase the memories of her suffering, but he knew that it was his doing, and the thought of it was emotionally devastating.

.....

He drifted to a nearby location where he could observe Emily, while remaining hidden from other people. Instead of succumbing to his guilt, he began reflecting on his life since his arrival in this world. As he recalled everything he had done, he realized that he had never been mentally stable. He constantly swung between extremes of fear, excitement, and despair.

At first, he had just revived from energy-saving mode when he became blinded by fear and started tormenting innocent villagers without considering the consequences of his actions. Then, he swung to the other end of the spectrum, becoming overly excited by his otherworldly power and new skills, and tested them without thinking ahead.

His most grievous error had been killing Thomas out of fear, and now, he could never undo his actions.

As he pondered his past actions, he gradually began to understand his problem. He had been living without a concrete goal, allowing fear and other emotions to manipulate him, and making one mistake after another while blaming the system and his circumstances.

To avoid making any more foolish mistakes and dying under the weight of his guilt, he needed a clear goal. And he knew what that goal would be: to protect Emily and make her life as good as he could from the shadows. He wanted to atone for the mistakes he had already made, even if he could never be forgiven.

Regarding the Soul Points, he had enough for his immediate survival. He decided to investigate his next targets thoroughly and only kill criminals from now on. He would also practice mindful meditation regularly to decrease his madness and slowly overcome or manage his fear and other extreme emotions.