He had crossed countless lines of death.
It wasn’t an exaggeration or a metaphor. Literally, he was a man who had survived life-threatening crises thousands of times. Wasn’t he the tenacious one who had clawed his way out of that living hell and ultimately inflicted a fatal wound on the body of his archenemy, who was called an immortal being?
He was confident he could overcome ordinary ordeals without much excitement. After all, that level was practically everyday life for him.
Even so, the man had no choice but to be certain.
That at this moment, he was facing one of the worst predicaments in his entire life.
In front of the man stood as many as five women. No, to be precise, four.
Because one was slumped down, showing tears.
It was the ‘Silver Saintess.’ Due to the man’s excessive honesty, the woman made no effort to hide that she had been hurt in her heart.
For the man, it was extremely unjust.
When she said, ‘Didn’t you say it was only me back then,’ of course he had. He could swear that he had done nothing shameful in front…