Shi Lei's heart turned ice-cold. He had come brimming with ambition, believing he would be the final victor. But now? Even his life was no longer secure.
The World Lords of the Demon Race he had brought with him all looked at him with hatred in their eyes.
They had already made up their minds: even if they died, they would tear a vicious chunk of flesh off Shi Lei.
Shi Lei felt the situation was exceptionally troublesome. In a one-on-one fight, he could still suppress and crush them with his formidable combat power.
But the actual situation was one against nine. No, one had already lost the ability to fight, so it was effectively one against eight.
One against eight, and several of them were Late World Lord Realm. Under normal circumstances, he might have been able to suppress and kill them, but the Demon Immortal had given him a requirement: they had to be kept alive.
The other party wanted to eat them alive, not dead.
That made things difficult. He had a splitting headache.
"I haven't felt this way in a very, very long time."
"Is this what it feels like to be weak?" Shi Lei murmured inwardly.
Who had never been weak? When he had been weak, he had been just like this—forced to take a gamble for survival.
It made him feel young again.
"Fight!" Shi Lei roared. Arcs of lightning flickered continuously over his body as he pushed his defense to the limit and raised his combat power to its peak.
Qin Luo looked at the Netherworld Wolf and asked through voice transmission, "If it were you, do you think you could instantly kill them all if you faced that group?"
Hearing Qin Luo's words, the Netherworld Wolf's mouth twitched, and he fell silent.