"The real Tao?"
The thing wearing Tao Chang's face laughed. It was not the sound of amusement; it was the sound of glass breaking inside a coffin, a dry splintering crackle that scraped against the inside of Ning's skull.
"I suppose you could say I… integrated him. Every scrap of him. His flesh, his memories, even that pathetic little spark he called ambition. I devoured him body and soul."
The creature stepped closer, its movements impossibly fluid, a predator inspecting its meal. It leaned in its voice, dropping to a conspiratorial whisper that coiled like smoke in the dead air.
"And you… You should feel privileged, Ning Que. Truly. Most mortals just… vanish. A whisper of terror in the dark, and then nothing. But you? You get a front-row seat. A special preview of the final act before the curtain falls for everyone."