Zhao Xuanyang was dead.
Now Jiang Wang stood before his corpse.
With a light sweep of her fingertip, Song Wanxi dissolved every restraint Zhao Xuanyang had placed upon him.
The gap between a True Demon and a Divine Presence cultivator was one that even an unparalleled Prodigy like Zhao Xuanyang could not cross.
Perhaps only someone like Chongxuan Chuliang, the First Divine Presence of the Eastern Domain, possessed the right to contend with a True Person.
Of course, with Jiang Wang's current strength, he was not qualified to speculate on a clash at that level.
Zhao Xuanyang's eyes were open.
Wide open.
As though they were still demanding, "Well, well, you actually tricked me."
But he could no longer ask it aloud.
What a dazzling Prodigy, what a glorious reputation—yet once dead, all would ultimately vanish like smoke.
Zhao Xuanyang had thought Jiang Wang had summoned a True Demon into The Present World from the Wild Tomb of Ten Thousand Worlds, but in truth, this was merely a blood puppet.
True Demons possessed awareness; blood puppets had no intelligence.
Thus, within this Ancient Demon Den at the bottom of the Magma Lake, the only one still possessed of intelligence was Jiang Wang.
At last, he could lay bare his true emotions.
Looking at the corpse, Jiang Wang slowly said, "Perhaps I should ask about your last wishes too. But I do not have your strength. I am not qualified to ask."
"Perhaps I should also say sorry. But I killed you only to protect myself. I have done nothing to wrong you."
Jiang Wang fell silent for a moment. In the end, he merely reached out and closed Zhao Xuanyang's eyes. "Let that be that."
Zhao Xuanyang had brought him here to hide without letting anyone know. Whenever he went