When someone suffers a blow too big, they become despondent.
If the despair lasts too long, even the strongest person will become weak and courage will certainly fade.
Now, Zhu the Great King was in such a terrible state.
He resembled a pitiful insect, and he even loathed himself as he was.
Regrettably, he had no way out, not even capable of severing his own Heart Meridian, he could only lie on the ground like a disgusting bug, waiting for his unknown fate.
His muscles, once as strong as iron, had now loosened and were limp, truly like a flat bug.
When he heard footsteps, he moved and struggled to raise his head.
With ash and dust on his face, looking towards the entrance of the secret chamber, a burly man was walking in carrying a woman.
"Hehe... hehe..."
His tongue was stiff as he let out a ghastly laugh, but he was unable to speak; he found it difficult to even curl his tongue or forcefully move his mouth.
