Zhishou's sudden words left everyone stunned.
They had finally managed to gather eight Divine Way Realm experts. How could it still not be enough?
Everyone waited for him to continue. Only Hanyu rolled his eyes, because he knew the other man's nature all too well.
Whenever that old geezer spoke up of his own accord, it was guaranteed to be bad news.
Especially when he'd been spying on them for ages before finally showing himself. That was just plain perverse.
Everyone stared at Hanyu—or, more accurately, waited for Zhishou to speak.
A helpless voice echoed through the void. "Why do you think Heavenly Beings took three rules, rather than four or five? Why not simply take as many as they could?"
Both the one from Yanluo Hall and the one from the Heavenly Dao Sect had each tricked three rules out of the Heavenly Dao.
So here was the question: Had they run out of time to trick more out of it?
Hanyu's expression turned odd. Zhishou loved taking established facts and presenting them as questions.
Which meant the question itself was the answer.
He spoke in a strange tone. "Are you saying Heavenly Beings can't take too many rules?"
Were three rules a lot?
For those who had never grasped a rule, it seemed hard to understand.
But the old Daoist's expression suddenly changed. He had naturally remembered what he himself had gone through.
It had taken him several thousand years just to master a single rule. So even if Heavenly Beings were worlds apart from them, surely they couldn't claim every rule for themselves.
So it wasn't that they didn't want more than three rules—they couldn't take more?
"The flesh has its limits. The number of rules it can bear may vary with one's strength, but there's still