Cao Feiyu looked at the Vengeful Demon Origin floating before her, then raised her eyes to Shi Pojun's seemingly gentle smile. Rage churned in her chest, nearly impossible to suppress.
How could she fail to hear the needle hidden in cotton in Shi Pojun's words?
This was no division of spoils. It was clearly pressure and warning carried out under the name of distribution.
He had blocked their path with his Half-step Great Cang Realm Late Stage cultivation, using fellowship between sect members and the gossip of outsiders as excuses to forcibly stuff this twenty percent of the origin into their hands. It looked generous, but in truth, from a lofty position, he was declaring his control and quietly drawing a boundary.
I give it, so you may take it. If I do not give it, you may not contend for it. Even if I am unfair, you must endure it.
That was even more disgusting than outright robbery.
Cao Feiyu dearly wanted to smash those two clumps of origin with a single palm strike, but reason told her that turning hostile now was anything but wise.
Shi Pojun was immensely powerful, and Chang Guwu was clearly advancing and retreating alongside him. Chen Fei's cultivation was still shallow, while she herself was seriously injured. If they truly fought, they had no chance of victory.
Moreover, although Shi Pojun's talk of fellowship between sect members was hypocritical, it still occupied the surface layer of righteousness.
Cao Feiyu took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing her surging blood and fury. Her face seemed covered in a layer of ice that had endured ten thousand years.
She did not look at Shi Pojun again. She merely gave a cold sweep of her hand, sending out a gentle roll of elemental force that collected the