I raised stunning young ladies, but they all wanted to possess me.

His vision began to blur as the third tentacle was severed.

Things appeared as if viewed through a layer of fog, and the iridescent light in my pupils began to flicker and become unstable.

His head started to hurt, not just a normal pain, but a feeling like someone was pricking his brain with needles.

The aftereffects of the Mirror Flower Seal came; the backlash from overusing his supernatural power came faster than he had anticipated.

But he gritted his teeth and charged toward the fourth tentacle.

One cut, two cuts, three cuts, four cuts, five cuts.

The fourth tentacle finally broke off.

With all four tentacles severed, the Ironhide creature completely lost its ability to sense anything.

It cannot see, hear, or smell, but it still has instincts; its enormous body is its weapon.

It began to charge around indiscriminately.

Gu Yan took a deep breath and gripped the Demon-Suppressing Blade tightly.

His pupils lit up with seven-colored light again, this time not as a distraction, but as a full-force activation of his sword technique.

The move Pei Zhanyue taught him was the "Draw Sword Slash".

The force originates from the ground, the waist rotates to drive the shoulders, the shoulders drive the arms, and the arms drive the wrists.

All the power was concentrated on the blade, and it slashed at the Iron Clan's foreleg.

The blade cut half an inch into the gap in the carapace, not deep enough, so I made another cut.

The second cut struck the same spot, and the blade went in another half an inch.

The third cut, the fourth cut, the fifth cut.

The carapace of the foreleg cracked open, and black liquid flowed out along the crack.

But the leg isn't broken yet.

The Iron Clan felt a sharp pain and whirled around, its massive head hurtling towards Gu Yan.

Gu Yan didn't have time to dodge and was hit on the shoulder, sending her flying and crashing to the ground.

He almost dropped the Demon-Suppressing Blade, but he held on tightly, his palms scraping raw from the hilt.

He got up, knelt on one knee, panting heavily, a trickle of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth.

His eyes were still hurting, and his vision was getting blurrier, but he did not give up.

The Iron Clan creature's front leg was mostly destroyed, making it unsteady and causing it to lean to the left.

Every time it tried to charge, it would veer to the left, and Gu Yan spotted this weakness.

When it tilts again, rush forward and slash at its injured foreleg.

The sixth cut, the seventh cut, the eighth cut.

That leg finally broke.

The Iron Man let out a deafening scream, and its massive body crashed to the ground.

The ground shook violently, and gravel flew up and fell back down.

Gu Yan stood in front of it, the tip of her knife pointing at its head.

He didn't finish the job because it wasn't necessary.

With one leg broken and all its tentacles gone, this Iron Race creature was ruined; it couldn't get up.

However, Gu Yan's health was not very good either.

His eyes began to sting, as if someone was burning his eyeballs.

The iridescent light in the pupils began to shatter, falling off piece by piece like broken glass.

My vision became increasingly blurry and dark, and the world before me began to double and distort.

Then his eyes started bleeding, not just a drop or two, but a stream running down from the corner of his eye.

Bright red blood streamed down his cheeks, dripping onto his clothes, his hands, and the blade of the Demon-Suppressing Blade.

The blood and the black liquid on the knife were mixed together, making it impossible to distinguish which was blood and which was the beast's bodily fluids.

His vision had blurred to its limit; all he could see were large swaths of red and black.

But he still raised his head and glanced at the distance with the last bit of light-sensing vision he still had.

At that very moment, he saw it.

High in the distance, on a platform that had not yet completely collapsed, a figure stood.

The figure's outline resembled a person, but not quite.

Because something was unfolding on the back of that figure, not just one pair, but several pairs.

It resembled wings, or some kind of luminous wings, with a faint silvery-white glow at the edges.

The figure stood beneath the dark red sky, and as the wind blew, those wing-like things fluttered gently.

The distance was too great; he couldn't see the face clearly, or even tell if it was a man or a woman.

But he could feel that person looking at him, that gaze that seemed to travel hundreds of meters to land on him.

Like a needle pricking your back, cold and sharp.

He wanted to look for one more second, to see clearly what it was, and to see the person's face.

But his eyes couldn't hold on any longer; a stinging, burning sensation surged up from deep within his eyeballs.

It was as if someone had burned his optic nerve; his eyelids began to droop uncontrollably.

His field of vision narrowed and darkened, and the outlines of those wings became increasingly blurry before his eyes.

Finally, it turned into a white spot of light and then disappeared completely.

His eyes were closed, not because he wanted to, but because it made no difference whether they were closed or not.

He could see nothing at all; all he could see was endless darkness.

Blood was still dripping from the corner of his eye, onto his clothes, his hands, and onto the blade of the Demon-Suppressing Sword.

My head started to hurt terribly, like it was going to split open—not a metaphor, it really felt like it was going to split open.

He could feel his consciousness fading little by little, like sand slipping through his fingers.

His body was immobile; every muscle was trembling and every bone was aching.

His fingers were too weak to even grip the knife, but the knife was still in his hand.

Because his fingers were frozen in the same position as when he was holding the knife, and he couldn't pry them open.

He stood with his eyes closed in front of the Iron Clan, covered in blood, his clothes, face, and hands smeared with black liquid and red blood.

But his back was still straight, his chest was still rising and falling; he did not fall, he stood up.

Under the dark red sky, his figure was thin but upright, like a knife stuck in the battlefield.

The wind blew, his clothes fluttered, his hair moved, and his face was covered in blood.

But he stood there, as if nothing had happened.

A picture flashed through his mind.

Grandpa sat in the wicker chair in the old house.

Sunlight streamed in through the window, falling on Grandpa's gray hair.

Grandpa held a cup of tea in his hand, smiled and waved to him, saying, "Xiao Yan, come and have some tea with Grandpa."

Gu Yan's throat tightened; he had promised his grandfather he would take him to South Africa.

I promised my grandfather I would see him get married and have children. I've made many promises, but I haven't done them yet.

I can't die here.

As for the others, those girls, they have their own paths to follow.

They are the female leads, they have the protagonist's halo, and the plot is corrected.

He was just a variable, a passerby who wouldn't live much longer.

Grandpa is different; Grandpa only has him.

Fortunately, even if I am gone, the world will not be destroyed, and Grandpa will still be able to enjoy his old age in peace.

His fingers tightened their grip on the hilt of the knife, using the last bit of strength he had left.

Then the Iron Man with the broken leg moved again.

Although it cannot see or stand up, its instincts remain, and it continues to struggle.

Its body writhed on the ground like a dying fish.

The spikes on its shell carved grooves into the ground, its tail swung back and forth, and its big head banged wildly.

A sharp spike swept towards Gu Yan.