"I've told you countless times, that move of yours is meaningless. It's useless no matter how many times you call for it. You're weak but you don't even know it. Attempting to challenge the strong is your greatest arrogance." Black Death's brow furrowed, a hint of impatience showing.
But Tao Xuehai, though barely conscious, still struggled to push himself up. He gripped his broken sword, his unfocused eyes locked on Black Death.
He struggled, wanting to call out again for his partner's response. But his body was too weak; he no longer had the strength to even summon the power of the gales.
His throat felt as if a knife had been stabbed into it and gotten stuck—agonizing, blocked, making it almost impossible to breathe.
"Foolish!" Black Death unclenched his fists and slowly walked over. If he couldn't recruit him, he might as well put him to sleep forever.
But in the next instant, he froze. His expression changed slightly as he looked behind Tao Xuehai.
