The pupils of those eyes held no roiling blood, but were filled with a despairing, baleful aura. It was as if they had endured countless extremes of sorrow, which had festered for so long that they had become this way.
It's somewhat different from the other members of the Devil Race, Li Mu Yang thought. Perhaps it was once harmed by the Devil Race. I might have a chance to persuade it to betray the demons and return to humanity.
"Who are you?" the depressed Three-Eyed Demon asked in a low voice. Its voice held no emotion—no joy, and even less of the habitual irritability of the Devil Race. It sounded like an old man who had weathered the world and seen all its warmth and coldness.
Regardless of what its voice sounded like, at least it was speaking human language. This delighted Li Mu Yang while making his heart race.
What delighted him was that they could communicate freely. What made him nervous was that anyone who understood human speech was a high-ranking member of the Devil Race, at least at the level of the Eighteen Generals or above. That was because such demons could seize human bodies, steal their memories, and ultimately put them to use.
Facing such a terrifying creature, Li Mu Yang secretly felt that his plan to "kill it if he couldn't persuade it" would be difficult to carry out. If they started fighting, the heavens and earth would be overturned, and wouldn't the entire Devil Race be alerted?
"And who are you?" Li Mu Yang asked aloud.
"Wind Bandit," the demon replied.
One of the three great priests of the Devil Race. Li Mu Yang knew that his luck had never been very good.
Li Mu Yang examined the depressed demon and discovered that