"Putting on an act with gods and ghosts? This humble monk refuses to believe that all six hundred-plus cultivators were killed by you. Do you think you're in the Golden Core Realm?" Seeing this, the three monks gritted their teeth, their faces twisted savagely as they charged at Chen Fan.
Chen Fan's expression remained indifferent as he stood quietly in place. The blood cloud slowly enveloped both him and Bald Bird. Then, with a light sweep of the Bone Sword, the heads of the three monks rushing toward him instantly fell to the ground before their bodies were swiftly devoured by the blood cloud.
Whoosh!
The three monks' corpses abruptly vanished before everyone's eyes. Chen Fan did not take out the Soul Devouring Banner to consume their souls again. He simply stepped onto his flying sword and, expressionless, streaked toward Heavenly Sand City.
All the cultivators remaining where they stood had gone pale, sweat beading on their foreheads as a chill crept down their spines.
"How... how is this possible? One casual stroke of the sword killed three Foundation Establishment Late Stage cultivators?" one cultivator said, his face deathly pale with lingering fear.
"Those several hundred Foundation Establishment cultivators out at sea... were they truly... truly all slain by him alone? Not even their corpses were left behind." Some stared in shock, scarcely daring to believe it.
"He is simply a young devil king, a demon from the Central Lands—the true king among the younger generation," someone said, fear rising from the depths of his heart.
"Who exactly is this person? Why did I feel as though the three monks were controlled by some inexplicable immense force just before they died? Was that merely my imagination?" An elderly man narrowed his cloudy eyes and spoke in a low voice.
Yet