"Who are you?" The figure took half a step back, warily watching the Old Man with brown-gold eyes.
He Ao quietly watched the figure, his expression calm as he slowly asked, "Are you from the Church of Death God? Were those three just now your subordinates? Did you have them monitoring the situation at the scene?"
He raised an eyebrow slightly and asked slowly, "Did you tamper with the souls of those marchers?"
The best method of automation was pure manual monitoring.
Even He Ao himself had not expected the Church of Death God to operate with such "craftsmanship." They had arranged several people here to monitor things in real time, and even the marchers' corpses had been directly controlled by the three slain followers of God of Death.
And behind these front-line followers of God of Death, there were even higher-ranking Church of Death God members monitoring the entire incident.
Of course, looking at it another way, the fact that this required so many people to carefully oversee it perhaps meant it was very important.
"Senile old fool." Upon hearing He Ao's questions, the figure merely stepped forward. A section of bone flute fell into his hand, and he bit down on it and blew out a piercing howl.
Along with that howl, phantom souls emerged from the void one after another. Carrying terrifying auras, they charged at He Ao.
He Ao quietly watched the phantom souls, his brows lifting slightly.
He raised a hand, and surging flames swept through the surrounding space in an instant, engulfing the phantom souls. Within moments, those souls were burned away.
Bang—
The pristine white bone flute suddenly shattered, scattering into dissipating dust.
The shackles in the void shattered at that moment, and dense soul power poured into He Ao's body.
He Ao