His words seemed to carry a terrifying power of persuasion.
Gradually.
The young man's already pale cheeks turned deathly white, like that of a corpse.
It was unclear if he had given up resisting.
His hand left the hilt of his sword.
With a calm face, he said, "Master, do you want the demonic blood in your disciple's body?"
"Huh?"
Hearing these words, even the Evil Pharmacist, who had already fallen into madness, was slightly taken aback.
"You... you know?"
"Of course I know, Master."
The young man straightened his chest, trying his best to look confident, "On this journey to the east, countless hypocrites of the Righteous Path and demons of the Evil Path have desired the demonic blood in my body. But they all failed. Do you know why?"
"Oh?"
Hearing this, the Evil Pharmacist raised an eyebrow, "Could it be that your mother protected you all the way?"
