[ He does smile a little bit at that. Same as always, which makes sense. He saw the scars when he accidentally met Geralt in the baths. He saw the muscle and the signs of his profession. What else does a man like that do but the same as what he's learned? He's a martial artist, be it in the form of a warrior or assassin or whatever it is he has learned to hunt. Men like that rarely quit. They fight until they run out of fight, unless he was planning to become a monk. That makes Wen Kexing smirk. He can't see it. ]

Me? I died as a boy.

[ He continues to pet Mog idly, fingers tracing up the gryphon's neck and over the curve of the beak without looking at where they might be headed. ]

I became the lord of ghosts, forbidden to enter the light.

[ If this were the jianghu, he would be fighting as soon as he said that. It's ironic how little meaning the words have here. ]

I suppose I can't say "same as always", but I have someone to haunt, so I haunt him. He's an idiot that needs a ghost to remind him not to die.