"What the hell is this?!"
Piccolo stared fixedly at the pale blue-white flames covering his body and instinctively blurted out the question.
This thing was simply too bizarre.
It was clearly fire, yet it produced no smoke, no heat, and set nothing alight.
And yet it gave him an instinctive feeling that something was terribly wrong—
"This flame is called Samadhi. It burns many tangible things, but specializes in burning inner demons and wicked thoughts—"
Zhang Qi explained.
Piccolo's expression changed instantly upon hearing that.
His race's method of reproduction was simple: spit out an egg and pack all his memories, power, even his hatred into it.
But if these flames truly had that effect, then even spitting out an egg would be useless.
What was born would be someone as blank as a sheet of paper, not a Demon King who inherited his will.
This stranger who had appeared out of nowhere had cut off even his final escape route.
"Keep dreaming!"
With that thought, Piccolo made his decision at once and spoke viciously.
Even centuries ago, when Mutaito had sealed him inside a rice cooker with the Evil Containment Wave, he had not felt this hopeless.
At least back then, he knew he was still alive and that one day he would see the light of day again.
But now, this young man before him had blocked off every last shred of hope.
If he could not leave behind descendants, then he would simply drag that old bastard Celestial down with him.
He abruptly severed the remaining ki within his body. The life energy that had been expanding outward instantly collapsed inward.
He intended to destroy himself and drag that old bastard Celestial down to Hell with him.
"That isn't up to you."
Zhang Qi shook his head.