But now, the faces of Blind Bei, Mo Wan, Siniang—their faces, one after another—began to materialize in Zheng Fan's mind. Zheng Fan suddenly wanted to ask himself a question: compared to the seven people under his command and men like Lord Jingnan, was he truly considered a demon king?
Screams of agony, cries of wailing, and the sounds of weapons piercing flesh echoed nonstop from all directions.
Zheng Fan hadn't killed anyone. He hadn't touched his saber, nor was he frightened by the scene before him. Instead, everything unfolding before his eyes suddenly struck him as somewhat comical and absurd.
The slaughter continued all around. In this scene, no one paid any mind to what Zheng Fan was doing. Or rather, even if any of the armored soldiers saw Zheng Fan doing nothing, they wouldn't suspect a thing.
