This was no longer the world she used to live in, where she'd gone through nine years of compulsory education.
In this world where the strong were revered, she wouldn't ask her son to be some kind of saint. As long as he held to his principles, didn't slaughter the innocent, and could live with a clear conscience, that was good enough.
Celeste Grant reached out and took his hand.
"Son, Mom is telling you that true strength lies in protecting—protecting everything you care about. We don't have to be saints, but we can't use our high Cultivation to bully the weak, nor can we treat human lives like dirt just because we are powerful. Whether it's through Cultivation or Devil Cultivation, you must be able to maintain a clear conscience."
Aaron Sinclair nodded.
"I understand, Mom."
Celeste Grant put a hand on her hip.
