Lin Du's face was not wooden. There was no plea for pity on his face, nor a look of despair. Death seemed to be an insignificant matter to him, as normal as eating and drinking water.
It wasn't that Lin Du wasn't afraid of death, but rather he couldn't stomach any injustice against himself. For Lin Du, even death was an unacceptable outcome. Since his father's disappearance at the age of six, Lin Du had always roamed alone in the forests, hunting wild animals, miraculously surviving numerous brushes with death. Lin Du had resolved that one day, he would die.
But, faced with the corpse of a Devil, the dust of the forest not only wasn't afraid, but also a fervent battle stirred within his heart, blood boiling, wanting to fight to the very end. He would only leave behind the dust of the forest, unwavering, without tail-wagging begging or kneeling to it.
