In truth, even if Envoy Wang of the Hell Path had both arms intact and his cultivation at its peak, facing the siege of more than ten Innate Martial Artists would have meant certain death. Now, that outcome had merely arrived sooner.
Drip, drip. His arm hung limply at his side, scarlet threads of blood falling to the ground. Before long, they had pooled into a small puddle of blood containing Envoy Wang's vital essence and energy. Should a savage beast obtain it, it could enhance the potential of its fleshly body.
At this moment, Envoy Wang also understood that he had truly reached a critical juncture of life and death. He coldly swept his gaze over those around him before finally fixing it on Han Pu, the leader of this operation, and said,
"You brat of the Meng Family, you led men here today, with two traitors aiding you, and truly caught me off guard.
"But are you really determined to kill me to the last? Are you not afraid of enraging the Hell Path and suffering its vengeance in the future?"
Han Pu sighed. The same old words again—why did they always refuse to shed tears until they saw the coffin?
There were always fools in this world who thought far too highly of themselves, believing they could take whatever they wished, that everyone else had to wait upon them and fear them. Having gained some trivial achievements, they imagined it was all due to their own ability and merit.
Yet once they encountered a powerful enemy and their lives were no longer in their own hands, they would use the majesty of the forces behind them to intimidate others, hoping to find a sliver of life. He wondered whether, after the intimidation failed, there would also be