Do I... regret it?
Jiang Wang asked himself.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a familiar tavern.
It was familiar because he had just left this place.
This was exactly the tavern in Zhongshan Country where he had been captured.
In front of him stood Zhao Xuenyang with a wooden sword in his arms, and behind him, crowded in the corner, were the tavern staff and diners.
He was facing the sudden crisis head-on while those people whispered among themselves.
"Damn it, a Demon Race spy is right here!"
"Don't be afraid, Zhao Xuenyang is here. This scoundrel won't get away today!"
"Watch how he dies!"
"Keep your voice down. This is a Demon spy, ruthless and cunning. If things go south, he might take you down with him!"
"How could anyone stoop so low as to serve the Demon Race? Truly despicable!"
...
The whispers floated clearly to Jiang Wang's ears, thanks to his mastery of the Voice Broadcast Immortal Style. Every word, every ounce of hatred... distinctly audible.
