"Too late!"
Tu Shan Jun clenched the Soul Banner and was about to shake it, unleashing the strangling art.
Not to mention a remnant god before him—even if immortals or Buddhas stood before him, so long as they dared leave their own bodies, they would still be suppressed and refined alive by his true body.
This god who did not know whether it lived or died was no more than a wisp of green smoke.
"Did Fellow Daoist come at the command of the Primordial Saint Spirit Demon?"
Tu Shan Jun's movements paused.
He said blandly, "What if I did? What if I did not?"
"The Primordial Saint Spirit Demon surely sent you to this land of divine prohibition, but you probably do not know what you came here to do."
Silence.
The beggar did not dare be negligent.
He continued, "I had an agreement with the Primordial Saint Spirit Demon. He would send someone to save me. That person should be you."
Tu Shan Jun still did not put away the Soul Banner. Instead, he said, "You wanted to steal the peaches I planted."
"I was asking you for them, but you refused to give them."
"How could that count as stealing?"
"Besides, you used my blood to plant that tree. I have not even asked you for payment yet."
The beggar's gaze drifted about, never daring to rest upon that blue-black Soul Banner. His eyes were filled with apprehension.
Who knew which great deity had refined such a ghostly thing.
Though he possessed abilities that reached the heavens, the sight of that Soul Banner still sent a chill of terror through him.
"You are the one buried underground?"
Tu Shan Jun was not surprised.
If anyone in this entire land of divine prohibition dared call himself a god,