The Demon Lords

The essence of a demon lord was fully manifested at this moment. This didn't mean a demon lord's only image was one of commanding reverence from a throne; their true terror lay in their highly developed cunning and scheming.

All the previous preparations were merely to create an opportunity for Xue Three to finally speak. Now, it had succeeded.

Mr. Chen stopped advancing and instead sat down cross-legged.

"My lord, seize this chance…" Blind Bei urged in a low voice.

Liang Cheng's Corpse Poison was indeed formidable. However, Liang Cheng was currently far from his complete form; if he were, merely revealing his true body and aura would be enough to stage a grand entrance like the Drought Demon's, scorching the earth for a thousand li. Furthermore, the man before them was most likely a Fifth Rank Sword Cultivator. A Sword Cultivator's physique might be somewhat inferior to that of a pure martial artist, but it would be underestimating them to assume someone of this level lacked any means to counteract poison.

Meanwhile, Mr. Chen, who sat cross-legged, thrust his sword into his own calf and said, "You can use this chance to try and kill me."

A sudden amusement welled up in Zheng Fan's heart. Did this Mr. Chen actually think he would emulate Duke Xiang of Song's misplaced benevolence?

"Son, it's our turn."

Instantly, the stone on Zheng Fan's chest began to exude a chill; negative energies such as calamity, curse, suffering, and malevolence started to seep from the stone into his body. Zheng Fan controlled his qi and blood, not resisting this power, allowing it to take control of his body.

"CRACKLE... CRACKLE... CRACKLE..."

Zheng Fan closed his eyes, his face displaying a trace of pain. This sensation was truly uncomfortable, akin to one's body turning into a balloon and being forcibly inflated.

However, this 'air' was intangible; it wouldn't cause physical bloating, but it could warp one's consciousness to an extreme degree, a sensation a hundred times worse than motion sickness.

Perhaps the only advantage was that, unlike motion sickness which required getting out of the vehicle for relief, Zheng Fan knew this agonizing sensation would end quickly once he endured it.

Of course, the physical depletion and torment his body would suffer after the Mo Wan departed was a matter for later.

His joints emitted a series of crisp cracks. It was as if a firearm, previously held by a novice, had been passed to an expert who was now adjusting and breaking it in according to his own preferences.

All of this occurred very quickly. Zheng Fan's body trembled, his spine straightened, and then his mouth stretched into a wide, exaggerated smile. The smile was so broad it seemed to tear the corners of his mouth slightly, and a trickle of fresh blood seeped out.

Zheng Fan lowered his head slightly, looking at the wretched Blind Bei kneeling beside him. A clear glint of schadenfreude shone in his eyes. It seemed that witnessing Blind Bei's plight was an amusing spectacle for him.

"I know you have other intentions…" Blind Bei's voice, extremely weak, sounded out, "But if you don't kill the man before you, then no matter what other plans you have, you'll end up just like us."

Zheng Fan raised his head to look at Mr. Chen in front of him.

Mr. Chen was attempting to use his sword as a conduit to draw out the Corpse Poison from his leg. However, he quickly realized the poison was spreading with extreme rapidity. Unless he sealed off all the qi and blood in his body, he couldn't stop its advance.

But sealing off his qi and blood now would be tantamount to tying himself up and offering himself to be slaughtered.

Mr. Chen remarked with a sigh, "This poison… it's formidable."

"HEH HEH... HEH HEH..."

Xue Three, who had lost several teeth, cackled again.

And why wouldn't it be? If it weren't so potent, why would he have groveled before Liang Cheng for half a month? He knew that after giving up his essence blood, that Zombie would be weakened for a full half-month.

Seeing the blackish poison already spreading from his calf towards his thigh, Mr. Chen decisively raised his sword. He swung it in a half-circle, and the blade became wreathed in a fiery Protective Aura.

"THWACK!"

With a single stroke, Mr. Chen severed his own left leg at the knee!

The poisoned lower part of his left leg rolled several times on the ground.

The heat from the Sword Qi instantly cauterized the wound at the stump, staunching the bleeding.

Mr. Chen then picked up his scabbard. With a swipe of his sword, he sliced off a third of it.

Immediately afterward, Mr. Chen plunged the modified scabbard directly into the stump of his severed leg.

"THUD!"

Then, Mr. Chen stood up. In that brief moment, he had fashioned himself a prosthetic leg.

"I… Damn…" Xue Three, sprawled on the ground, managed to force out a curse.

Damn it all... For the first time, Xue Three found someone so reckless to be truly terrifying.

The previously unremarkable Mr. Chen had become the disabled Mr. Chen.

He tapped his new left leg on the ground; the scabbard end made a crisp impact. Then, holding his sword horizontally across his left arm, he began to walk towards Zheng Fan.

Zheng Fan's left shoulder was higher than his right, his body tilted slightly as he, too, began to walk towards Mr. Chen.

Because Mr. Chen's left leg was a "prosthesis," his gait was uneven, higher on the left. At least, as the two men approached each other, their walking styles presented a strange symmetry.