"Looks like you're in a pretty bad way!"
Zhou Suanni teased.
The old farmer panted. "Everyone wants to kill me. What's so strange about that?!"
He had stirred up towering waves of blood across the three northwestern states, wiping out countless sects and aristocratic families. Though he had slaughtered them all, those forces had never existed in isolation; they all had distant relatives, old friends, and tangled connections of one sort or another.
When the Mad Demon Blade was at the height of its arrogance, those connections were useless. But once he became a dog fallen into the water, the sticks came down to beat him.
Only because he was still of use to the Sealed Lord had he been allowed to keep his life, hiding in this sunless underground prison cell and clinging to a lingering breath.
"Let me count. The other Lords of Demon Weapons want to kill you so they can contend for the Supreme Demon Weapon."
"And those Demon Weapon Slaves of yours who were lucky enough to survive also want to turn the tables. Once you die, the Mad Demon Blade will only attach itself to the remaining weapon slaves, and one of them will automatically become the Demon Weapon Host!"
Zhou Suanni shook his head. "You really are in bad shape."
"That's right. Not good at all. A few days ago, you guarded me tightly, but lately, you've begun to relax."
The old farmer analyzed the situation calmly. "I'm about to die. As bait, once every last drop of oil has been squeezed from me, I'll have to use my life to hook the final big fish for you, won't I?"
"But there's more than one big fish you want, which puts me in quite a difficult position."
"It's fine. I'm not in a