"Evil sect cultivators, keeping martial artists captive?"
Lu Zheng's eyes flickered. Martial artists cultivate with their Qi and blood boiling fiercely, indeed making some good furnaces for blood Dao techniques, which the military consistently suppresses with deadly force as evil practices.
Moreover, that martial artist is not weak at all. With a hundred years of Dao practice, he is a master in any force. To have such a master as a blood slave furnace, this old man's cultivation must be even higher?
"Hehe..."
"Haha..."
"Young man, surrender, and you can suffer less pain."
"Otherwise, under the God-Devouring Technique, I'm afraid you'll wish for death rather than life!"
Two voices grew closer, seeming to ring right next to Lu Zheng and Shen Ying's ears.
Lu Zheng and Shen Ying frowned; these voices murmured with intermittent noise, drilling into their ears, very unpleasant.
"Hehe, not bad huh, still holding on?"
"Haha, the higher your cultivation, the happier the master!"
