More than ten breaths later, after taking over a hundred sword strikes, Feng Jiu crashed to the ground. Nearly every feather had fallen from his enormous demonic body, the red crest on his head was broken, and his massive bird's head was drenched in blood.
"How does it feel, Brother Jiu? Before you tried to kill Xu, did you ever imagine this would happen?"
Xu Yi stopped attacking and smiled at Feng Jiu, who was on the verge of death.
He always repaid his grudges, and of course he had wanted to kill Feng Jiu. But now that he was holding back, he was weighing the costs and benefits.
Killing Feng Jiu would be as easy as killing a chicken. Aside from venting his anger, it would accomplish little. Besides, by now his fury had already run its course.
Keeping Feng Jiu alive might prove useful, but Xu Yi had no way to control him.
He had watched Hu Jinghui reach into Master Jiao Da's body and pull out a Heart-Devouring Worm, then swallow it whole as casually as a snack.
Xu Yi wasn't foolish enough to think a Heart-Devouring Worm could control Feng Jiu.
"You're not one of the Demon Race. I, Huang Fengjiu, never thought I'd die at the hands of a human. And I never thought you could disguise yourself as one of the Demon Race so convincingly—not only did you create a crest, but your aura is indistinguishable from ours. How laughable that I only saw through you now. If the human race has such a wondrous technique, then my Demon Race will never again know peace. Do it, you despicable human!"
Knowing he couldn't escape death, Feng Jiu resolved to preserve his dignity.
"I don't know what you're talking about. They say that when a