At this time, Nie Tong was not yet the Asura King. He was his younger brother—the one who bore his pain in silence yet persevered without fail, the one who dared to give everything for his elder brother!
Step by step, his stiff legs slowly carried him forward like two withered branches—ridiculous and pitiful. Yet the sword in his hand was anything but pitiful.
Its angles were bizarre, and its power terrifyingly immense. With each slash, no matter how many demonfolk crowded around them, none could withstand it.
"With me here, no one can hurt my brother!"
Nie Tong's resolute gaze came with his icy voice. Every step he took seemed to strike Nie Yun's heart.
Especially Nie Yun, wounded and fallen to the ground—his eyes grew moist once more.
"Brother, come. I'll carry you out!"
With a low cry filled with unwavering resolve, Nie Tong seized the injured Nie Yun with his left hand and slung him onto his back.
Pfft! Pfft!
That movement immediately exposed an opening. Several demonfolk nearby thrust their weapons forward, and in an instant, blood splashed before their eyes.
Nie Yun, on Nie Tong's back, felt warmth on his face as thick blood dripped onto it.
"Nie Tong, put me down! You're hurt..."
Nie Yun cried anxiously.
"It's the demonfolk's blood!" Nie Tong remained unmoved, smiling faintly as if the blood did not belong to him.
"Are you really all right?" Nie Yun still could not rest easy.
"I'm fine!"
Nie Tong's petrified legs moved, carrying him forward one step at a time. With every step, a demonfolk fell.
More and more demonfolk surrounded them, and more and more were slain by him.
Even in his dreams, Nie Yun had never imagined that the younger brother he had always considered useless could be so