The Fire Flood Dragon King let out a breath of relief. His escape light drew in, and he slowly descended toward the ground.
Then he cupped his fist respectfully. "This junior pays his respects to the Ancestor."
"No need for such ceremony. This old man and that old wicked dragon of Ten Thousand Flood Dragon Valley have been acquainted for a thousand years..."
"Heh, senior speaks truly. My clan ancestor often mentions you as well." Seeing the other party's amiable tone, the Fire Flood Dragon King's face revealed a fawning, ingratiating look. He offered a few words of flattery, then cupped his fist and bowed to Hermit Qinglian as well.
Though the Human Race and the Demon Race seemed tangled in endless grudges—one side taking the other's Nascent Soul, the other swallowing one's Demon Core, as if they could not live beneath the same sky—that was only on the surface.
In the end, it was all for the sake of advancing in cultivation, and could hardly be called some deep, irreconcilable hatred.
Within the two races themselves, was it not also bloody wind and rain every day? Since ancient times, the cultivation world had always been like this.
On the surface, demonic beasts and cultivators fought until everything was a complete mess, but the great powers of the two races were bound together by countless threads.
They were joined by interest. Otherwise, they would never have joined hands back then to deal with the Ancient Demon.
Of course, unlike the fawning he showed when facing the Nine-Headed Ancestor, Hermit Qinglian might be the master of a sect, but the Fire Flood Dragon King's status was likewise exalted, so the two naturally exchanged greetings as equals.
After a brief round of pleasantries—though at this moment, naturally, they kept a long story