Even two and a half years after that battle, Descartes still felt a shiver of terror and lingering dread whenever he thought of Jiang Yang at night.
If the Lord of Filth had not saved his life back then, he would have likely died at Jiang Yang's hands.
Whether in combat strength or anything else, Jiang Yang had far surpassed him. For a long time after returning, Descartes had held no hostility toward Jiang Yang—only fear and lingering dread. He simply could not beat him. He simply could not defeat Jiang Yang.
Even now, Descartes still felt somewhat afraid when he thought of Jiang Yang. Though his strength was no longer what it had once been, he still had no confidence that he could defeat Jiang Yang. Fortunately, that man was already dead!
Descartes did not know whether Jiang Yang was truly dead, but after the Lord of Filth acted, he was probably doomed.
Only after such a formidable enemy had died did he finally breathe a sigh of relief. If Jiang Yang had not died, then what would it matter even if he had tempered himself under the Sons of Destiny of past generations?
He still would not be able to defeat Jiang Yang. He needed no proof—just a feeling. His instincts told him that he would not be Jiang Yang's match.
He needed no reason!
"That's right. What a pity Jiang Yang didn't kill you back then."
"And that Lord of Filth too. Was there really a need to protect his little pet so thoroughly? He even protected a dog."
Qiu Chan sneered. The mention of Jiang Yang filled her with rage. Jiang Yang's slumber was inseparable from the Lord of Filth, and this Descartes was the Lord of Filth's lackey. Killing him could be considered collecting a