The Mo Clan's overall strength was on par with the Xian Race. They had Peak-Stage Eighth-Order experts, dozens at the Late-Stage Eighth-Order, and in the future, their Peak-Stage Eighth-Order numbers would only grow.
A mere human race, a mere Mid-Stage Eighth-Order—even if he possessed Late-Stage Eighth-Order combat strength, since when was it Chen Fei's turn to threaten their Mo Clan?
"It doesn't really count as a threat. I'm just stating a fact," Chen Fei said, smiling as well.
"It seems Chen Tianjiao truly doesn't care about this old thing's life. That saves me trouble. I'll send him on his way right now, so he won't keep clinging to his last breath here and disgrace the Xian Race."
The smile on Yu Zongguan's face faded. He walked step by step toward Shi Borong, slowly raising the Long Spear in his hand, about to thrust it straight into Shi Borong's skull.
Shi Borong calmly watched Yu Zongguan approach, then turned to look toward where the Xian Race was, a faint smile appearing on his face, before he finally looked at Chen Fei.
Shi Borong's gaze was very calm. Death, that was all. Ever since he began cultivating, Shi Borong had long since prepared himself for it.
If there was any regret, it was that Shi Borong had failed to see a higher realm of martial arts. In the end, he could only stop at the Late-Stage Creation Realm, without even having had the chance to attempt the Peak-Stage Creation Realm.
"If you want me to enter, fine. She has to count as one of them."
Chen Fei's voice suddenly rang out as he pointed at the old woman of the Guzu Clan.
What the Eighth-Order experts of the other races regarded as an overt scheme, a trap, was merely what they thought.