The Moldy Little Cotton-Padded Jacket Needs Some Sun

Facing Blade Maniac's pressure, the patriarch of the Murong Ancient Clan had collapsed to the ground, his face deathly pale, yet he calmly said, "Blade Maniac, you're indeed very strong, but forcing me to change my name—isn't that going a little too far?"

"So you mean you won't change it?" Blade Maniac asked, raising a brow.

"Mm. I won't," the patriarch of the Murong Ancient Clan replied.

"Looks like you still don't know how sinister the human world can be." Blade Maniac twisted his neck, loosened the muscles and bones in his hands, and walked step by step toward the patriarch of the Murong Ancient Clan with a wicked grin.

At that moment, the patriarch of the Murong Ancient Clan watched Blade Maniac approach him step by step with a wicked smile on his face. It felt just like a young girl abducted by bandits and hauled up a mountain, watching a burly man with a full beard and a lecherous grin approach her.

"Y-You... what are you going to do..." The patriarch of the Murong Ancient Clan cultivated the Heartless Dao, yet at that moment, fear unexpectedly arose in his heart.

Blade Maniac teased him, "What, are you scared? Looks like your cultivation of the Heartless Dao is still far from complete."

At the same time, when Li Zhōujūn saw that the patriarch of the Murong Ancient Clan had actually become afraid, he helplessly asked the system, "He's scared. Do the tears he sheds still count as Tears of the Heartless?"

[Beep: Fine. For the sake of my good son, I'll reluctantly count them. After all, this fellow really is cultivating the Heartless Dao.]

Li Zhōujūn: "..."

And just as Li Zhōujūn was conversing with the system—

the patriarch of the Murong Ancient Clan had already let