The image of the God of Undead differed from imagination, or rather from the statues of him.
At this moment, he resembled a human far more.
With golden slightly curled hair and deep-set eyes, placed in the primary plane, he looked more like a noble from the human camp or a young prince.
Fang Hao stared at him, without any intention of wasting words.
He spoke directly, "Frank, I'm giving you two options now: one is to submit to me, and the other is death—a true death."
Seated atop the wooden palanquin, the God of Undead raised his eyes to glance at the two of them, his face showing a disdainful smile.
"I know you, Fang Hao. You hold resentment against me because I expelled you from the camp, but you must understand, the fact that I didn't kill you was already my greatest sense of mercy."
"So this is your final statement?"
