Thus, after making his entrance, Zhao Cheng did not rush to attack. Instead, he looked down upon this world, then swept his gaze over his four old friends and declared loudly, "Gentlemen, I find that Wang Daoming harbors deep schemes and hides himself too well. He is no good sort, lacking in virtue. Our Heavenly Origin lineage—the foremost of the Five Powers—ought to be led by one of virtue."
"Why don't the four of us join forces and swiftly suppress him?"
"Are kings and nobles born to their stations? He may be the first generation of Heavenly Origin, but so may we!"
Zhao Cheng's voice echoed through the universe, making countless great stars tremble and shudder.
"Well said, Zhao Cheng. I knew long ago that you had rebellion in your heart. Today, I finally see your wolfish ambition—you truly are no son of man."
"At a time like this, you still dream of using honeyed words to drive a wedge between us brothers. Do you think that will spare you a dressing-down?!"
"Gentlemen, attack at once! Let this thief understand what it means that before the Great Dao, there are no brothers—only those beneath one's hand, where the truth is seen!"
As Wang Daoming heard this, he burst into laughter and charged at Zhao Cheng.
In terms of sheer scale, Zhao Cheng, with the advantage of fighting on his home ground, was already more than ten times their size. But at their level, scale did offer a certain advantage—only a certain advantage, not an absolute one.
As for their exchange, whether it was Zhao Cheng's rearrangement of the rankings or Wang Daoming's laughing curses, it was all merely banter.
Perhaps it was their final jesting.
No one could predict what would happen in this final great tribulation, this final reckoning.