After a pause, his voice did not rise, yet every word was clear. "What is even rarer is that these eight million miles of mountain range guard the vital choke points of the earth veins everywhere. The dragon head faintly suppresses dragon qi; it is plainly drawing in the essence of the earth. With your Heaven-Piercing and Earth-Splitting cultivation, fellow cultivator, you surely would not painstakingly cultivate for such a trace of dragon qi. I imagine it is meant for refining some supreme treasure."
His words were flattering, yet his voice was as still as a dried-up well, without half a trace of respect. The Wild Wasteland Demon God had initially worn a smile, but upon hearing the final sentence, his expression abruptly darkened. Catching the curve at Su Yang's lips that seemed to be a smile yet not a smile, his heart inexplicably tightened. Loathing surged up, and killing intent quietly rose.
The corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly. His eyes shifted, and he threw back his head in loud laughter. "A fellow cultivator's insight is as keen as a torch. Your Dao must be profound indeed! Why not exchange pointers on the Great Dao, you and I?" Light burst from his eyes, his fighting spirit already like a blade drawn from its sheath.
"Heh... one from beyond the pale is, in the end, not of the same path." Su Yang gave a cold smile inwardly. At his realm, the instant the other's killing intent arose, it was already like a bell tolling beside his ears.
Yet this killing intent had been drawn out by his own hand. If he attacked without cause, he would ultimately be taking the inferior course—Even among cultivators, there were those stubbornly devoted to the saying, "A campaign must bear a just name."