The Bulwark demon was trying not to mistakenly snap Simon's tiny neck as he held it.
Compared to his hand, Simon's neck was like a pencil and with a little force, the Bulwark demon could snap it.
Simon knew this, but his gaze still contained a chilling indifference and calmness despite his current situation, and this dissatisfied the Bulwark demon.
He wanted to see fear in Simon's eyes.
He wanted to see the despair, the hopelessness in his eyes.
He wanted Simon to beg for mercy.
However, Simon would never give him what he desired.
In fact, Simon could not help but chuckle softly at the words of the Bulwark demon.
"I don't think I've ever been called a little weak pussy cat before... That's new."
The Bulwark demon frowned deeply after hearing Simon's words.
"What's so funny?"
Simon rolled his eyes, then he released a soft sigh.
"Can't a little weak pussy cat have a moment of peace and laughter before his death?"
