Pella rolled his eyes. What did they mean, he was incredibly lucky not to have died?
He had mustered the strength of nine oxen and two tigers, survived nine brushes with death, and overcome countless dangers before finally making it out alive.
Did they really think he had always been this pathetic? Back in the day, he would not have spared this so-called Demon Emperor before him a second glance.
Throughout heaven and earth, he alone had reigned supreme. No one else possessed his overbearing, invincible presence.
Now, all he wanted was to drift through his days. Staying alive was enough. To hell with ideals and ambitions, to hell with reigning supreme.
Unfortunately, even like this, he was still being used.
Was he really too naive?
But how could a powerhouse who had lived this long be naive?
All he could say was that his enemies were too cunning, so cunning that even he had failed to spot a flaw.
He had to admit, the Kang Brothers really had a knack for running away.
Long ago, they had already become legendary for being as timid as mice.
Everyone understood why they were so cowardly: they carried secrets far too great.
Far too many expectations rested on their shoulders.
They did not dare die. They refused to die for nothing.
But so what? There was not a single person in this world who did not carry secrets.
Even Pella himself bore a blood feud as deep as a sea of blood. Back then, he had single-handedly crushed countless powerhouses beneath him and become the strongest of them all.
But that had come at a price. He had offended far too many powerhouses. Back then, he had still been rather naive. He had not hunted many of them down to the last,