Sky Roc's body was fat and massive, yet before Gao Xian, he could not straighten his back, much less dare stir his divine consciousness or mana.
He bowed slightly at the waist and lowered his head, maintaining an attitude of humility—almost servility.
Since attaining the eighth rank and roaming the world unchallenged for hundreds of thousands of years, he had already forgotten what humility was.
Yet at this moment, Sky Roc assumed a humble posture with utter naturalness, without the slightest reluctance or discomfort.
The Demon Race did not have as many messy rules and rituals as the human race. They had always believed in one principle: the strong were honored.
Since Gao Xian possessed divine might capable of crushing an eighth-rank cultivator, Sky Roc ought to show him respect. Besides, his life was in Gao Xian's hands.
Compared to the dignity of an eighth-rank powerhouse, his old life was clearly more important.
The longer Sky Roc lived, the more he understood life's preciousness. Only those young and ignorant cultivators would risk their lives at every turn.
If lowering his head could buy back his old life, Sky Roc would not even mind kowtowing and kneeling in worship.
To him, these so-called humiliations were not worth mentioning.
Only while he lived did anything have meaning. If his life was gone, humiliation or glory would be nothing more than topics for idle people's gossip, utterly meaningless to him.
The reason Sky Roc did not kneel and beg for mercy was because he knew that would not soften Gao Xian's heart.
At the eighth-rank level, one considered only gains and losses.
His humble manner was mainly meant to convey that he wished to beg for mercy and make peace.
Yuan Tianying watched from the side with leisurely composure. She was not surprised