The end of the world is approaching, I'm handing myself over to the country.

Qian Hua looked at him quietly, his eyes still cold.

"My lord, what I want to say is..." San Shi suddenly straightened up, his voice trembling with emotion, "Although I am a monster in your eyes, I am also my mother's child, the father of my children, and I have thoughts too! I am also afraid of pain, and even more afraid of death!"

He held out his bloodied hand, pointing to the wound on his arm.

"When they were drawing blood, I was in so much pain I wanted to scream! Do you think I wanted to crawl on the ground like a dog? I wanted to stand up straight, with dignity, and talk to you! But I was more afraid of dying!"

San Shi's eyes were red, and his words were half true and half false.

He was genuinely afraid of death, and he was truly gambling.

He knew that this was the time to completely reveal his vulnerability and tear off the lord monster's disguise.

Unless the other party is extremely ruthless, they will be moved and have a high chance of surviving.

The forging workshop was deathly quiet.

San Shi's tearful accusations echoed between the walls.

Qian Hua fell silent.

He is not someone who is easily swayed by emotions.

He hated nonsense, but at this moment, looking at San Shi kneeling in front of him, so humble as to be in the dust, Qian Hua inexplicably had a scene flash through his mind.

That was a big yellow dog he raised in his hometown when he was a child, named Xiao Huang.

There was no reason, I just inexplicably made that connection.

Once, Xiao Huang stole some meat from the cutting board and was chased and beaten by his grandma with a broom.

When Little Yellow was cornered and couldn't escape, it was in the same position, slumped on the ground with its two front paws covering its head, making whimpering sounds of begging for mercy, its eyes full of innocence and grievance.

His appearance was so similar to that of San Shi in front of him that it was almost unbelievable.

Qian Hua loosened his grip on the sword slightly.

But he was very clear-headed.

This thing isn't a real dog; it's far more dangerous than a dog.

A cornered dog might bite, but this guy has the power to massacre an entire city.

Qian Hua himself didn't realize that his tense facial muscles had relaxed slightly.

There was a long silence.

"Letting you go..." Qian Hua stared at San Shi and slowly spoke, "It's not impossible."

These words sounded like heavenly music to San Shi's ears.

San Shi's eyes widened suddenly, and he even paused for a moment.

You won the bet?! You really won the bet?!

"Really?!" San Shi was overjoyed, his massive body trembling with excitement. He scrambled forward half a meter, stumbling and crawling: "You didn't lie to me, sir?!"

"Don't thank me yet." Qian Hua flipped his wrist, and the tip of the Blood-Drinking Sword was pressed directly against San Shi's broad forehead.

The cold blade easily drew a shallow line of blood.

"Hand over your divine soul essence, and before you leave, stay by my side and assist me."

Qian Hua spoke slowly and deliberately, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The ecstasy that had just risen within San Shi was instantly frozen.

Surrendering one's soul and essence is tantamount to handing one's life completely over to the other party.

The other party doesn't even need to move a finger; with just a thought, he will die.

This is equivalent to putting on a collar that you can never take off.

Refuse to pay? You'll die right now.

"Give it to me! I'll give it to you! I'll give you whatever you want, Master!"

San Shi's hesitation didn't even last a second.

It's better to live a miserable life than to die; being a slave is worse than dying.

A ball of energy, about the size of a thumb and emitting a faint green light, slowly emerged from between San Shi's eyebrows.

As the primordial energy left his body, San Shi's aura instantly weakened, and he gasped for breath.

Qian Hua showed no mercy.

A massive surge of spiritual power erupted like a tidal wave, instantly enveloping the soul's essence and imprinting its spiritual mark upon it.

An absolute sense of control is established between the human and the monster.

Qian Hua sheathed the Blood-Drinking Sword and turned to walk towards the experimental table.

"Get up and clean up the mess on the ground so we can prepare for the next test."

"Hey! Okay!" San Shi immediately perked up, looking completely shameless.

To avoid appearing too intimidating, he deliberately hunched his back, shrinking his over two-meter-tall frame as much as possible, making him look extremely comical.

"Master, don't worry, you can take as much of my blood as you like, just leave me alive!"

San Shi immediately got up and started cleaning.

Qian Hua glanced at the bloodstains on the ground, then at the other person's still bleeding arm, and frowned slightly.

"Alright," Qian Hua interrupted.

San Shi was startled and quickly stopped what he was doing, his massive body instinctively curling into a ball.

Qian Hua flicked his wrist, and a subtle fluctuation flashed within the spatial source weapon.

A small white porcelain bottle appeared in his palm.

Without any further ado, he casually tossed the porcelain bottle, which transformed into a white streak and landed precisely in San Shi's arms.

"Hurry up and recover," Qian Hua said coldly, walking towards the forging table beside him. "Then we'll continue."

San Shi hurriedly caught the porcelain bottle, which looked no bigger than a soybean in his hands.

recover?

The medicine in this little shabby bottle?

San Shi inwardly grumbled.

In the Netherworld, his physical body's regenerative ability was notoriously abnormal. By relying on his own strength, this minor injury could be completely healed in no time.

If I hadn't deliberately sought the other person's sympathy and pity, this injury would have healed long ago.

But since the other party had spoken, he dared not disobey.

"Thank you for your generosity, Master! I'll use it right away!" San Shi put on a fawning smile, his two thick fingers pinching the small porcelain bottle, and carefully pulled off the stopper.

"Pop".

A soft sound.

The moment the cork came off the bottle, a thick, almost tangible, emerald-green mist drifted out from the bottle opening.

San Shi had just taken a breath.

next second.

His massive body seemed to be struck by millions of volts of electricity, and he froze on the spot.

The emerald green mist he inhaled through his nostrils instantly transformed into an extremely domineering and outrageously pure life force, which exploded within his body.

There was no rejection, no obstruction.

This power, like rain after a long drought, flowed directly into his limbs and bones.

He didn't need to actively activate his healing ability at all; the wound on his arm began to visibly move.

"Hiss hiss hiss—!"

The fine buds seemed to come alive, intertwining and growing wildly.

The wound, which was originally covered in blood, visibly shrank by one-third in just one or two seconds.

What does this mean?

San Shi's eyes widened, his vertical pupils trembling violently, and he even stopped breathing.

I only inhaled the escaping aroma! I didn't drink a single drop!

The wound's healing speed increased by hundreds of times!

"The water of life?!"

A loud "boom" went through San Shi's mind, and he almost dropped the small porcelain bottle in his hand.

He stared intently at the swirling green light at the bottle's opening, his eyes filled with unbelievable shock.