Song Zhong looked at the cultivator before him and did not speak.
The other two cultivators likewise said nothing, merely looking at the cultivator in front of them.
All three of them emanated the aura of Saints, while the cultivator who had just spoken carried the aura of a "God."
The cultivator who had just spoken seemed to react as well, and he laughed. "Fine, then I'll tell you all first. I belong to the Third King."
Although he was a God, his face was still full of wariness as he spoke. The cultivators who came here should be the strongest existences in their respective universes. Though the other party looked like Saints, there was an even greater possibility—that the three before him were higher existences. That possibility was even larger.
"The Third King? What a coincidence. We're not from the same place, then, so you can only die."
The moment this God's words fell, at Song Zhong's side, a cultivator who looked almost like a member of the Human Race, but whose body was covered in sharp edges—even his head had one ridge after another—suddenly revealed a savage smile. The next instant, he abruptly attacked, thrusting a finger fiercely toward the God before him.
In an instant, an incomparably sharp spike grew from his finger and shot straight toward the other party's face.
This strike was simply too fast. Even though the God opposite him had already been prepared, he still failed to dodge it. The spike plunged straight into his body, and immediately afterward, that God's body instantly turned a dark green. At the same time, a foul, fishy stench rapidly spread out in every direction.
And the cultivator who had been stabbed no longer had the slightest trace of aura.
A God, an existence capable of crushing