To be honest, Hun Yu regretted it so much his intestines had turned green.
For ordinary people, an opportunity to make a grand showing before tens of millions—even at the risk of losing their heads—would probably have countless people scrambling to seize it.
Except for Hun Yu himself.
All along, Hun Yu, the Soul Clan's strongest Heavenly Prodigy and descendant of "Ghost Monk Hun Tu" among the Four Demon Saints, had lived every moment surrounded by admirers who fawned over him like stars around the moon.
Cultivating, sparring, sleeping—one could say that even a casual bit of nonsense from him would be treated as sacred wisdom by countless people, even prompting many peers to imitate him eagerly.
He was sick of it.
Whatever he did, people praised him. Wherever he went, people envied him. It was truly boring—far too boring.
Especially after Hun Feng had once tried to possess him, that fear rooted deep within his heart had become ever harder to dispel, even driving Hun Yu into a period of self-doubt.
What was the point of showing off? Was he tired of living?
Thus, once he began viewing matters from that perspective, the world suddenly became much clearer.
He looked at Hun Feng, who had made a huge spectacle of himself before dying an inexplicable death. Even now, no one had uncovered the cause of his death, and no one cared about it either.
Like a stray dog by the roadside.
Then he looked at the Ancient Clan's younger generation, arrogant and overbearing as if they ruled the Eight Clans, when in truth they did not even know their own limits.
Before the Young Master and the Prince Consort, if they still could not recognize their place, their end would be no different from Hun Feng's.
He still wanted