When the seven Grandmasters arrived, they were brimming with confidence, each bearing an otherworldly air as though they were unrivaled beneath heaven, supreme among men.
Yet they fell to their knees faster than the last. At least you had fought the Alien Demon head-on for twenty exchanges before it seized an opening and tore you into a half-man. These Grandmasters, on the other hand, were either instantly killed or severely wounded the moment they engaged it.
Ten exchanges—or rather, there had been no "exchanges" at all. The Alien Demon made ten moves, and all seven Supreme Grandmasters died.
"Seven useless scraps, and they only barely lasted half as long as I did." You watched the show and mocked them heartlessly, only then realizing that you had attached the lower half of your body backward.
Though even if you had put it on the right way around, you still could not have reattached it.
The seven Grandmasters had died so abruptly that the Martial Masters watching nearby turned deathly pale. They had no concept that there could be someone stronger beyond the world. A Grandmaster was heaven itself! Perhaps the mysterious expert from fifteen years ago counted as well.
But the mysterious expert was the mysterious expert. He was a reclusive Martial Saint, so of course he was powerful. What right did some monster that had crawled out of who-knows-where have to compare himself to a Martial Saint?
The facts proved that the Alien Demon might not have been a match for Zhu Baowen, but slaughtering a group of Grandmasters was no harder for it than child's play.
You looked toward the group of Martial Masters. You knew that two among them would soon become despicable, shameless, lowly cowards who clung to life and swore loyalty to the Alien Demon, after