"Do you still want to save that demon?!"
The drunkard lowered his head in silence, clenched his teeth as he stared at the ground, his hands bracing against the floor slowly balled into fists, his body trembling slightly.
He slowly closed his eyes, and after a long while, he opened them again.
His eyes were filled with despair and resignation.
He opened his mouth and uttered a sentence, "Don't save it, kill it."
The man was taken aback, somewhat surprised by the drunkard's words.
"What did you say?"
The drunkard forced a smile, suddenly laughed—a laugh filled with heartache, audible, and with tears.
Once he started laughing, he seemed unable to stop, as if he had heard some great joke over the years, and it took a while before he calmed down.
"After he dies, kill me too."
The man looked at the drunkard, unable to find any trace of the man who had once been desperate to save the demon, going mad begging for help from anyone...
