(A long chapter!)
Who was this? He had a lock of white hair at each temple. He must have been extraordinarily handsome in his youth, and even now he was striking. There were barely any wrinkles on his face. Sword-like brows, starry eyes—especially those eyes, deep beyond measure.
However, his gaze was not particularly friendly now, at least not in Wang Xuan's view. Earlier, it had carried a trace of... disdain.
Now he stared at Wang Xuan again and again. After scrutinizing him came contemplation, and then his expression grew somewhat complicated, as though he were recalling and reflecting on the past.
Wang Xuan's heart skipped a beat. Seeing Wu Liuji's low posture and Leng Mei, whose temperament leaned cold, now smiling brilliantly, he had a bad premonition.
Could this be one of the people who called the shots in the Demon Court? And quite possibly the one with the loudest voice?!
After all, he had spoken disrespectfully. Not only had he called the other man an old man, he had even hefted that heavy Wolf Fang Club and waved it twice, threatening to beat him up.
His scalp went numb at once. Inwardly, he muttered, Dad, Old Wang, and big brother Wang Yusheng, step up and carry your own pots!
But after thinking it over, he felt something was off. True Saints stood supreme above all—would they really personally arrive in hell? Even if one had come, would he have this sort of presence?
He figured that if a Supreme Being from the Demon Court had arrived and seen through his true appearance and the abnormalities of his primordial spirit, the attitude would probably not be like this.
It could be said that within a single fluctuation of thought, clusters upon clusters of mental sparks flashed through Wang Xuan's