Sheng Jing Wu's handsome, youthful countenance, which had remained the same throughout countless centuries, underwent a drastic change within a breadth of time. Fine lines graced the sides of his thin mouth, and his sharp, onyx eyes appeared sunken, as though his life force was sucked right out of him.
His hollow eyes remained downcast, gazing at his hacked off limb.
"Kill me and be done with it." Sheng Jing Wu, the infamous Jiangshi Master, pleaded.
"Why, pray tell, should I listen to your request?" The devil coldly replied.
In spite of asking, the silver-haired devil didn't wait for an answer. His narrow sword struck, again and again, accompanying his low, spine-chilling voice.
The Jiangshi Master's mind screamed out as the burning pain drove through him. He couldn't help weeping at his own suffering, imagining himself to be a block of wood in the hands of a skilled carpenter, being sliced one piece at a time.
