When one person lost, all that awaited was death.
When a stellar-source world lost, it either faced destruction—or generation after generation as "human livestock."
The cruelty of the universe—merely peeling back a corner of the iceberg—was enough to freeze one from head to toe.
This fact made Li Tianming keenly aware of how insignificant his own strength was. At the same time, it stirred some killing intent toward this "Blood Disciple" before him.
Perhaps it was because Li Tianming, too, was human.
The wanton smugness of those two heads on his shoulders, and the ferocity in their eyes, greatly displeased Li Tianming.
The "Blood Disciple" himself, however, rarely spoke. Other than killing intent and indifference, his gaze held none of that viciousness of a petty man drunk on success.
"Shut up."
He said only those two words, and the two heads on his shoulders immediately fell silent as cicadas in winter. They could only glare viciously at Li Tianming, as though blaming him for getting them rebuked by the Blood Disciple.
"Buddy, it's my first time seeing the Blood Devil Race. Do these two things count as part of your body?" Li Tianming asked, staring at the Blood Disciple.
"Your cultivation seems decent, but I don't have time to waste words on you." The Blood Disciple looked at him coldly. By then, the eighth sword had already appeared above Li Tianming's head.
"Oh, then forget it. I'm not that interested anyway," Li Tianming said.
The one truly anxious to leave was the Blood Disciple. If Li Tianming blocked his way, then he had to "kill someone"!
In that instant, his gaze became even more brutal!
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The most classic "transformation" of the ghosts and gods appeared. Back then, even Bodhi had relied on this ability to turn into