The tiny floating island fell deathly silent once more.
Then Sikong Jing loosened his grip on Junior Sister Cheng and Su Jingyi's younger brother slightly, allowing them to let out strange, muffled "mmph mmph" cries.
Their voices were meant to remind Su Jingyi that if he still refused to speak properly, it would come down to mutual destruction.
Su Jingyi clenched his fists tightly...
He felt as though he had truly been slapped across the face. Last time, it had been Sikong Ding; this time, it was Sikong Ding's son.
Yet if he softened his stance, where would he put his pride? If he did not, then his younger brother and Junior Sister Cheng would be in grave danger.
He could not help regretting that he had not acted personally at the very first moment.
But who could have imagined that among those who had come up from the Burial Emperor Spirit Seal Realm, there would be someone at the Extreme Prison Stage with such talent? What had the Spirit Race and Feathered Emperor Sovereign and the others been doing? They should have taken this boy away three years ago.
Suddenly, Junior Sister Cheng and Su Jingyi's younger brother's "mmph mmph" cries abruptly stopped.
Sikong Jing exerted force again, choking their voices in their throats, then asked heavily, "Shall we talk?"
Su Jingyi and the others continued staring fixedly at Sikong Jing...
All at once, Su Jingyi seemed to think of something and slowly raised his hands. Then came the sound of clapping—"clap, clap, clap."
He suddenly laughed...
"Not bad. As expected of my good slave's son."
"You want to know what happened to that old bastard Sikong Ding, don't you? I can tell you."
"Three years ago, he was thrown into my family as a slave. Every time he