"Then let me change the question, is a living Tyrant Black Python worth more, or a dead one?"
Ye Qingzhou rubbed his chin and began evaluating the massive black serpent from head to tail. His expression was like a chef at a market choosing pork during the New Year.
The Tyrant Black Python trembled under Ye Qingzhou's gaze, its eyes filled with fear and grievance.
According to the Linn Race's rules, it had already surrendered. But the "Upper-Rank Dragon Race" before it seemed relentless, looking as if he wanted to skin and dismember it.
Finally, Xu Lan said, "I suppose a live one is worth more."
These words saved the Tyrant Black Python's life.
Hearing this, Ye Qingzhou pulled the Suspended Cutting Sword from its head, accepting its submission, though his tone was still somewhat disdainful: "You better be useful; I don't keep idlers, much less idle snakes, got it?"
