"What are the few of you trying to do?" Ye Xiwen narrowed his eyes and spoke calmly.
"Ye Xiwen, don't blame us. You brought this upon yourself by being too arrogant!" Situ Nantian sighed, as though everything had been forced upon them by Ye Xiwen.
Ye Xiwen gave a cold laugh. "Since you've chosen to be a whore, don't set up a chastity archway. If you want to kill me, just say so. Why make it sound as though I'm forcing you into this?"
"That's right, Ye Xiwen. We're going to kill you. Who told you to be so high-profile, so arrogant?" A savage expression appeared on Bu Haomiao's face. Compared with Long Zhenbei and Situ Nantian, the enmity between him and Ye Xiwen truly ran as deep as the sea. Along the way, Ye Xiwen had humiliated him again and again, yet he had not dared to retaliate.
Because he had not been absolutely certain he could take Ye Xiwen down. For the master of a first-rate faction like him, that was simply unbearable.
Face—sometimes it meant nothing, and sometimes it meant more than anything.
"Just you pieces of trash who haven't even entered the Po Wang Realm after several thousand years?" Ye Xiwen sneered.
In an instant, all of them flew into a towering rage. This was their fatal weakness, the fatal weakness hidden beneath their pride. No matter how many disciples and descendants they had, no matter how many people admired them, it could not change one fact: they could not step into the Po Wang Realm.
Perhaps to ordinary people, their cultivation was already a pinnacle they could never reach in their lifetimes. But since they had come this far, who would truly be satisfied with that?
Who would be willing to stop here, standing still