Powerful empires always collapsed from within before falling apart completely. Throughout the long river of history, examples like this were countless.
The same was true of powerful factions.
The evil dragon had not even been slain yet, but the righteous and demonic factions were already arguing fiercely over how to divide the spoils.
It looked foolish and laughable, yet it also coincided perfectly with the little schemes in everyone's heart.
Everyone present knew that slaying the dragon meant death and required them to fight with all their might.
What if they risked their lives while the others held back? What if they exhausted their strength and drained their blood essence, only for the others to preserve theirs and wait for the final backstab?
Besides, there were countless people present, and sects stood everywhere. Every person had their own interests. Who would dare entrust their back to someone else without worry?
Once the dragon was slain, if those righteous people relied on their superior numbers to hunt down the Ghost King and the others, they were entirely capable of doing such a thing. How would the Ghost King and his companions resist then?
They would shed blood and expend their strength to slay the dragon, only to be massacred afterward by those righteous people hiding behind the banner of justice. Would they not die with their eyes open in resentment?
Think of the waters of the Angry River. For tens of thousands of years, they had remained red, their fury never fading. Perhaps the slaughtered dragons still could not let go of their hatred.
True Man Tian Bao glared at the Ghost King within the black mist and shouted, "What do you intend to do?"
"I don't intend to do anything. I'm only asking on behalf of my brothers—what do you