Yon Rha was never an artist at killing. He wasn't much of a firebender, able to hurl missiles and not much else.
Death was a means to an end for him. He hated waterbenders, hates them still, their movements all chaos and their societies breeding filth. Fire would clean all of them up one day.
Sometimes, working in the dirt, Yon Rha wonders if he got all the benders that day the Raiders attacked. The thought nags like an aphid on his tomatoes. He keeps working to shake it loose, keeps ordering his garden shaped like a perfect scorched world