"Bandits? You stinking beggar, and you dare call us bandits?"
The big man in the lead raised his dagger with a vicious grin. "So what if you used to be a cultivator? A plucked phoenix is worse than a chicken!"
He lifted his foot and viciously kicked Young Master Long in the chest.
"Pfft..."
Already seriously injured, Young Master Long took another kick and spat out a mouthful of blood. Stars swam before his eyes, and his breath grew faint.
Yet his eyes remained bright, still filled with pride and defiance!
"You still dare glare at me? I'll gouge out your eyes!"
The big man grabbed his knife and thrust it forward.
"Big Brother, no! Don't damage him! If you ruin the corpse, it won't be worth anything!"
A man beside him reached out and stopped this "Big Brother." "Big Brother, Lord Black Soul needs intact corpses to refine corpse soldiers. What if you blind him and can't sell him?"
"Corpse soldiers need eyes too?"
The big man froze for a moment. He simply could not understand it. Corpse soldiers were clearly just corpses, so what did they need eyes for? Could they even see?
"Cultivators' stuff is fucking strange. Forget it, I won't gouge out his eyes. I'll kill him first."
The big man spat, grabbed his dagger, and walked up to Young Master Long. "Heh heh, this is my first time killing a cultivator! Even if he's a crippled cultivator."
He raised the dagger and stabbed downward. With a "pfft," it plunged into Young Master Long's... thigh.
"Urgh..."
Young Master Long let out a muffled groan of pain. Gritting his teeth, he glared at the big man, endless hatred bursting from his eyes.
"B-Big Brother, how did you miss?"
Seeing the big man stab Young Master Long in