Peach Mountain Shatters, Yaoji Descends

Jieyin and Zhunti, the two Western Teachings leaders who had once stirred up storms across the Great Desolation World, were now putting on the most abject performance of all: begging for their lives.

Tears and snot streamed down Zhunti's face. Not a shred of a Saint's dignity remained in his words; he was even more contemptible than a street thug.

"Daoist Qin Mu, Venerable Yuanshi was the one who talked us into coming! He said that once it was done, he'd share the Eastern Fortune with us. We were blinded by greed for a moment!"

Though Jieyin was not quite so dramatic, he too knelt nearby with his palms pressed together. His bitter face had wrinkled even deeper, and his lips moved nonstop. Rather than chanting a Buddhist invocation, it seemed more like he was reciting a requiem for himself.

Qin Mu looked down at the Saint clinging to his leg, weeping snot and tears, and felt not the slightest ripple in his heart—only pure disgust.

This was a Saint?

This was a Saint who commanded a great sect and received the worship of countless living beings?

How laughable.

Before absolute death, their so-called dignity and Saintly prestige were worth less than a penny.

They were not even as good as a mortal with backbone.

Kill them?

Qin Mu even felt that killing them would dirty his hands.

Venerable Yuanshi might have been both foolish and wicked, but at the very end, he had at least dared to raise the Pangu Banner and fight to the death.

But these two had done nothing from beginning to end but kneel and beg for mercy, then sell out their allies.

Keeping them alive might prove more useful than killing them.

Today, here on Peach Mountain, Qin Mu had crippled Saints and slain