Stop Making Your Brother Situ Laugh

Situ Xuan rolled his neck, his joints cracking. His right arm had fully recovered, muscles bulging beneath his skin, tendons coiling around his arm like venomous snakes lying in wait. He raised his head, his gaze passing through the black storm that filled the sky and landing on the two heavenly pillars in the distance.

Two strange, patchwork creatures stood there.

Situ Xuan called them patchwork creatures because he had never seen beings like them before.

One was ten meters tall, built like a small mountain, with thick, dark-black hide covered in rough folds. It had the head of a baboon, a protruding mouth and nose, exposed fangs, and multiple eyes arranged chaotically across its face, their fields of vision covering every angle. Its arms were so long they passed its knees, its palms huge as cattail fans, black claws growing from all five fingers. Its lower limbs were thick as pillars, and just standing there, it looked like a mountain come to life.

The other was completely different. It retained a humanoid form, stood three meters tall, and wore dark, tight-fitting demon armor. Four wings grew from its back, two black and two purple. Its face was stern, with purple eyes and black hair, and it held a Wind Demon Spear. With both arms crossed before its chest, it looked down at Situ Xuan from above, its bearing like a king overlooking an ant.

Yet in those purple eyes, a trace of wariness clearly flashed.

Situ Xuan had killed too many. The corpses piled like mountains, the blood gathered into streams, the Malevolent Qi so dense it blotted out the sky—all of it had been wrought by this human's own hands.

Marchosias had watched from the rear of the demon army for a long time, from the moment Situ