Condensing a single drop of Demon Blood required draining three thousand six hundred great worlds dry.
The beings who died in those worlds left behind consciousness steeped in endless resentment and rage. In the end, it all became a raging torrent of murderous intent. Without a will strong enough to suppress it, anyone tainted by Demon Blood faced only one fate: madness, becoming a tireless killing monster.
Yi Dong had altered Wang Zong's memories, and those memories had never been as firm as the originals. Under the Demon Blood's overwhelming demonic will, both his real and false memories shattered, replaced by the will within the blood that suppressed all things.
This was not possession. The Demon Blood's owner was still alive. Wang Zong had merely captured a trace of its owner's essence and become an inferior version of the Demon Blood's master.
Katteya and the Knife-Wielding Hunter dragged Wang Zong up to the surface. Suddenly, pain shot through their hands, and they hurriedly let go. When they looked down, their palms were scalded bright red.
With defenses like theirs, just how extreme did the heat have to be to burn them?
Yet when they looked at Wang Zong, they found him lying on the ground. He neither sank into it nor turned it to lava with the heat radiating from his body.
Wang Zong slowly opened his eyes. His pupils had once been ordinary, but now each eye held two: one red, the other gold.
He sat up and rolled his neck. The instant he sensed something wrong with his memories, countless fragments began rapidly assembling in his mind.
His true self, false self, and new self fitted together in an instant, as seamlessly as pieces of a puzzle.
A moment later, Wang Zong opened his eyes and sighed. "Soft