From the moment of their creation, the souls of these monsters had been etched with a brand of loyalty to the old man.
"Are you planning to unleash all these blood-red humanoid monsters?"
Seeing this, Amaterasu's brow furrowed slightly.
The old man, Xu Fu, slowly raised his head. His gaze, warm with the weight of ages, swept across the various machines on the construction site—the fruits of modern technology.
A look as complex as an overturned paint palette flashed in his eyes.
It was a mixture of emotion and sorrow, as if in that single moment, he had traveled through time to witness the world's dramatic transformation.
He let out a soft sigh. It was like the low beat of an evening drum, drifting through the night air, carrying with it an endless desolation and resentment. "Back then," he said slowly, "all you could think about was suppressing me in this place."
"So what if I unleash all these humanoid monsters now?"
