He was old.
His body was no longer young, his movements had become slow, and just now he had missed the best chance to kill Belte. The Demon Hunting Master wasn't sure whether his own declining strength and severe blood loss would still give him another chance to kill Belte.
If he were ten years younger, he was confident that with his skills and strength, killing Belte would be a piece of cake.
But now... the pain and weakness from his wounds were impacting his nerves. Jacob's stamina was no longer what it was in his prime — the Demon Hunting Master knew his opportunities were few.
"Teacher, I'll give you one last chance to serve the Supreme Lord with me!" Belte's face was contorted with tumors from his injuries, which were worse than Jacob's.
The only answer was the sound of silence and angry breathing.
"It seems there's no other answer." Belte's blood-red leather jacket was already in tatters. "Do you really think Chayerin can escape, my teacher?"
