It was as if he were laughing. Simultaneously, a trembling voice emerged from his throat, "Useless..."
The fingernails on Liang Cheng’s ten fingers began to slowly lengthen.
Fine. Show you a little something and you’re ready to open your own dye house, are you?
They were all demon lords, all proud and arrogant beings. Did they truly believe they were the absolute, sole supreme? In any organization, ordinary employees, no matter how much they might outwardly flatter colleagues with connections to the leadership, invariably look down on them inwardly.
At this moment, the deep black in Zheng Fan’s eyes began to fade, and his aura also suddenly trembled. Liang Cheng paused. Newest update provıded by 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝✶𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮✶𝓷𝓮𝓽
"A Cheng, I trust him," Zheng Fan said.
This time, it was Zheng Fan’s voice.
Liang Cheng frowned slightly. The previous voice had indicated that Zheng Fan *could* have retaken control of his body, yet he had done nothing.
Trust him? Trust him with what?
The next moment, blackness once again swallowed Zheng Fan’s eyes.
In Zheng Fan’s field of vision, everything was now grayscale, like looking at a black and white photograph. The scenery, the people, even the wind—all carried an air of decay. From his perspective, the world held nothing worth clinging to.
The eyes are the windows of the soul; this was a true reflection of Mo Wan’s inner self.
Zheng Fan slowly raised his trembling hand, pointing at Liang Cheng, his fingertips almost brushing Liang Cheng’s nose.
At the same time, the childlike voice in his throat sounded again, "Use... less..."
This time, Liang Cheng looked at Zheng Fan calmly. He wasn’t angry, merely saying, "Then you, prove it to me."
Zheng Fan’s mouth split open again, stretched to an arc beyond what a normal human jaw could endure.
His hands began to droop, hanging slack at his sides.
His knees bent slightly.
He twisted his body, facing south.
Immediately after, he kicked off powerfully from the ground with both legs!
Like an arrow loosed from a bowstring, he shot directly south!
After dashing two hundred meters, Zheng Fan suddenly stopped and leaped into the air. His right arm swung a half-circle, as mechanically as a puppet’s.
Finally, his fist smashed into the ground.
A muffled explosion sounded.
A crater was punched into the earth. What splattered out wasn’t just mud, but also a vast cloud of... blood mist!
Upon seeing the blood mist, Liang Cheng’s expression changed instantly. He immediately roared, "Everyone, mount up!"
Someone had been watching them, lurking nearby! And despite having deployed scout riders and hidden sentries, they hadn’t detected a thing!
Beside the pit, Zheng Fan stood, his figure appearing somewhat desolate, his arms still hanging limply.
He turned his head, looking behind him.
There, Liang Cheng and all the barbarian soldiers were mounting their horses.
Zheng Fan grinned, forming exaggerated, silent lip movements:
This time, not only was Liang Cheng not angry, he even felt a lingering fear.
He had always prided himself on his ability to lead troops. Among the Seven Demon Lords, he was the only one with actual military command experience. Xue Three was a lone-wolf assassin; A Ming, a vampire concerned only with his own amusement; Fanli, a simpleton, and so on. Yet this time, he himself had blundered in a situation where mistakes were least affordable.
The enemy had managed to hide within the earth itself, undoubtedly using some special means. His failure to detect them was his own fault.
He should have known this was a... special world.
Yet, when setting up defenses, he had merely replicated his past experiences wholesale.
However, this was not the time to wallow in self-pity. Liang Cheng looked at Zheng Fan—or more accurately, at Mo Wan, who currently occupied Zheng Fan’s body.
It seemed Mo Wan’s full awakening this time wasn’t merely because that noblewoman had tried to attack Zheng Fan. In fact, judging by what A Ming had said about past events at the Nanwang City General Mansion, Mo Wan could easily have used a body of stone to crush that noblewoman’s head at close range. But he chose not to. He had sensed the true danger—a danger that could potentially lead to all of them being annihilated. Because of their uselessness, they had forced His Lordship Mo Wan to rouse himself from his lazy slumber. If that wasn’t useless, what was? No wonder the entity harbored such intense resentment.
The next moment, Zheng Fan’s body shot up again, sprinting south.
Liang Cheng raised his saber and roared, "Charge!"
Hundreds of barbarian cavalry thundered off, following the direction of Zheng Fan’s sprint.
"Commander, why haven’t those troops arrived yet?"
"Don’t be anxious. It should still be a little while."
On a small chair sat a somewhat gaunt man. Beside him, a small tea table held a plate of cloud cakes and a pot of cold tea.
The man wore light silver armor. The armor was indeed light and appeared surprisingly pliable.
Yan favored black, Qian State red.
In fact, in the very beginning, the armor of Qian State was predominantly silver. The founding emperor of Qian State, known in his early years during the previous dynasty as the ’Silver-Armored General,’ commanded troops uniformly clad in silver. Thus, after establishing his own state, his imperial guard naturally wore silver armor.
So it was that after the crushing defeat a century ago, the inaugural Earl of North Border left behind the verse: "Whip flicked, steed spurred, pursuing silver waves; the clear path winds afar, to where peach blossoms bloom."
Afterward, gradually, the Qian State army no longer primarily wore silver armor. A later Qian emperor, during an ancestral worship ceremony, claimed an ancestor had visited him in a dream, declaring that Qian State should be governed by the virtue of Fire. In short, for various convoluted reasons, the Qian State army began to favor red.