The instant Qin He's figure dissolved into thin air, the Demon Race merchants all froze where they stood.
"That person just now... was Human Race?"
A clam-shell demon lowered its voice to the utmost, its pupils full of stunned terror that had yet to subside.
"The Human Race of the Mystic Sea is only a fourth-rate race. They haven't produced a new Saint in over a thousand years. When did another Saint emerge without a sound?"
Several nearby demons also turned to look, suspicion and apprehension churning in their eyes as murmurs were just about to rise.
The old black turtle leading them suddenly raised a claw and pressed down on the shoulder of a demon beside it. Its shell tightened abruptly, its eyes filled with terror etched into its bloodline.
"Silence."
Those two brief words were as heavy as black iron sinking into the sea.
"Those who walk the Saint Dao cannot be discussed rashly, nor can they be fathomed. Casually discussing a Saint's Dao may trigger a karmic backlash even from a thousand miles away, bringing disaster upon your whole race."
The old demon's voice was hoarse, and all the aged demon aura around it withdrew.
That invisible, formless pressure from earlier had long surpassed any contest of cultivation. It was a gaze from the level of Heaven and Earth's order, the destiny pressure unique to Saints. One extra word might very well invite a catastrophe that blotted out the sky.
The demons instantly fell silent as cicadas in winter, no longer in the mood for idle chatter.
Hurriedly suppressing the fear surging within them, the demons set off once more.
From now on, they would have to regard the Human Race more highly. They had actually gained another Saint—news enough to shake the four seas.
Above