A merciless sneer rang out, accompanied by black mist that blotted out the sky and spread slowly across the entire plaza.
Yet not a single person present, including Tong Xuan himself, dared show even the slightest dissatisfaction. Their eyes were filled with terror and panic.
The reason was simple: the one who had spoken was Hun Miesheng!
A bloody god of slaughter who, even across the entire history of the Central Continent, had almost no equal when it came to killing.
The Dou Saints who had fallen at his hands had long exceeded the number of fingers on both hands. As for ordinary Half-Saints, they were not even qualified to become part of his record.
Faced with such a lawless god of slaughter, even Saint Stage Great Masters backed by the Eight Clans would never dare provoke him lightly.
For once one became enemies with Hun Miesheng, it meant that from then on, whenever one left their clan, they would have to guard against his endless pursuit. Even the Ancient Clan had no solution to that.
The Saint Stage Great Masters from every faction seemed frozen into statues, gazing up at the towering figure in the sky.
Reality proved that once evil reached a certain extent, the world's hatred would transform into reverence far more devout than usual.
At the very least, no one present was willing to offend Hun Miesheng.
Or Xiao Yan!
Within the main city, countless Black Mist Army soldiers poured out and surrounded the entire plaza so tightly that not even water could pass through. Yet without exception, their bodies trembled, and they could barely even muster the courage to raise their weapons toward that towering figure.
Saint Tong Xuan's face was even more livid, as though a massive boulder weighed upon his chest, leaving him