The Browless Old Man took a deep breath. At this point, blindly pursuing him again would do no good. He could only swallow his anger for now.
He looked down, intending to retrieve his severed arm and have it reattached.
But by then, his severed arm had long since vanished, leaving only a trail of blood where it had been.
The towering fury the Browless Old Man had just suppressed erupted again. Veins throbbed on his bald head; clearly, he was utterly enraged.
How could he fail to realize that the little thief must have taken his arm along when he fled?
"You bastard! I will find you! I will! Aah!"
The Browless Old Man threw back his head and roared. Having lived for at least a thousand years, he had actually been driven to tears of rage by a little thief who had appeared out of nowhere.
He also discovered a very troublesome problem: after losing his hair, many parts of his body had become extremely uncomfortable.
His nose, for instance, felt particularly dry when he breathed, as though he could sense tiny foreign particles entering at any moment.
Then there were his ears. Without hair, he had to use spiritual energy to shield them while flying, or the wind rushing into both ears became unbearably uncomfortable.
His groin and armpits were also sticky with sweat, which he found very hard to get used to.
Before the Soul Suppression Tower, the two Emperors stared at their eldest brother, who looked like a plucked chicken. Their mouths slowly fell open, and their eyes went wide.
What was going on? He had not been gone that long! How had his hair disappeared?
"Eldest Brother, did you stop for a haircut while you were out?"
"But there was no need to shave