Nonsense

Zhou Leng looked at the masked Martial Saint Realm figure unconscious in his hand, then at the Martial Saint Realm figure unconscious amid the ruins, and pulled off the mask of the one in his hand.

An elderly woman—one of the Gull Alliance's Martial Saint Realm experts, Sulaen, the current Secretary-General of the Gull Alliance.

She had previously been speaking in a man's voice, so he had not connected her to it at first.

A diehard member of the Demon-Worshiping Cult, she had repeatedly declared that Demon Prison was humanity's true home. Both openly and covertly, she had attacked the pro-war faction, especially hating Dragon Nation.

Zhou Leng looked at the announcement in the Martial Saint Realm group chat.

It used rather stern language to demand that all Martial Saint Realm experts avoid killing Blue Star Martial Saint Realm experts whenever possible. If they won, they should avoid killing; if they had to kill, it should only be as a last resort.

They were to prize harmony and consider the bigger picture.

The culture of muddling through had seeped deep into the Martial Saint Realm community.

Zhou Leng released Sulaen's hand. The dying Sulaen jolted awake, raised her head, and said weakly, "Zhu Shiji, you actually hid your strength."

"Mm."

"I never thought I'd fall into your hands. Tell me, what do you want? I can ransom myself."

Zhou Leng bent down, removed the Demon-Spirit Bag from Sulaen's waist, and asked, "What else do you have?"

Sulaen stared wide-eyed. Weren't Dragon Nation's Martial Saint Realm experts famed for being reasonable?

Since when had Zhu Shiji become so demonic?

Suppressing her rage, she slowly said, "My Demon-Spirit Bag contains nearly ninety percent of my wealth. It's all yours. I only hope you'll spare my life."

"Of course, on the condition that