Mephisto had guessed right.
Blood Demon Bradwell had only wanted to hear, with some amusement, what Black had to confess.
But once Black finished explaining himself,
the heart Blood Demon Bradwell had hardened over countless years softened.
This young man...
To someone as ancient as Blood Demon Bradwell, Black, not yet a hundred years old, was indeed young.
And he had moved him.
Blood Demon Bradwell had many loyal subordinates, and many whose Cultivation Levels were profound.
They would obey his orders and fight for him.
But none had gone beyond his orders to work so hard for him, even at the cost of their own reputation.
None but Black.
Only Black had put this much thought into it.
"Why did you do this, young man?"
Black looked up, his eyes full of filial devotion.
"Others may call me a noble member of the Pure-Blood Demon Race, but my mother died young, and my father... I grew up without a word of praise or affection from him. All these years, only you have treated me well, Blood Demon Lord. Only you have given me status and trust, and you even gave me a weapon and the chance to enter the Secret Realm. My Cultivation Level is too low to serve you on the battlefield. All I can do is give my utmost in everything I do, in hopes of repaying even a fraction of your kindness."
Before Blood Demon Bradwell could respond,
Mephisto's eyes nearly popped out.
Translated into plain terms, hadn't Black just said, My mother died when I was little, my father never loved me, and I'm a poor, pitiful soul. Now you're kind to me, Blood Demon Lord, so I'll treat you like my father?!
Good grief. The rest of them had followed Blood Demon Lord by