It had come to this—one after another, they looked at him as if he were already dead.
He lowered his head and looked at the woman in his arms.
She was still asleep, truly drunk.
She did not know how many people were watching her, nor how many wanted her. She merely lay drunkenly in a stranger's arms, letting out soft little snores.
As he looked at the beauty in his arms, Yan Hui let out a quiet sigh.
He muttered, "Since that's the case..." Then he raised his head and said softly, "Since I cannot attain Buddhahood where I stand!"
Suddenly, his voice changed.
It became somewhat ethereal, somewhat eerie. "Since life is worse than death!"
In that instant, Hua Tian's smile froze on his face.
Yan Hui continued, "Since I've been driven to desperation by several completely unrelated assassins!"
At those words, Soul Hook Hand tightened his grip on his blade.
Yan Hui did not look at him, only continued with a cold laugh. "Since I've been set up by this dead-drunk woman in my arms—since there is no way out!"
At those words, Sword Eighteen took a step back.
At this moment, Yan Hui's face grew even paler.
Then his eyes changed.
Those eyes, once sharply defined in black and white—the pupils suddenly spread like a drop of ink falling into clear water. In an instant, his entire eye sockets became pure, absolute black.
No whites of the eyes.
No light.
Only an endless abyss.
"If I cannot become a Buddha, then I shall become a demon," he said softly.
Then the iron shard moved.
It sprang from Yan Hui's palm, turning into a streak of black lightning, so fast that no one could react—
So fast it was unimaginable—as it plunged into his brow.
At that