"Fourteen transcendent elites—my lord slaughtered eleven of them himself!"
Watching Li Wufa, the transcendent elite of the Heavenly Demon Hall, rattle on with flying brows and dancing expressions, clapping and stomping whenever he reached an exciting part—
Gu An and the others looked as though they were listening to an incomprehensible heavenly book. They stood there dumbfounded, unable to squeeze out a single word for ages. At last, an early Golden Core disciple tugged at his senior brother's sleeve and whispered, "Senior Brother, couldn't this guy have been beaten stupid by Junior Brother?"
Hearing that, Gu An hurriedly coughed dryly and turned to glare at his junior brother.
What nonsense was that? Was that something he could just say? The man was like this because he had been moved body and soul by Little Junior Brother's power, thoroughly convinced and wholeheartedly submitting to him. Whether he was genuinely touched or beaten stupid, it all came down to Little Junior Brother.
Though they had survived a desperate situation and reinforced their foundations again with great medicine, Gu An had not let it go to his head.
He knew very well that the man before him was unquestionably a transcendent elite. His strength was simply horrifying; even the faintest leak of power from within his body made Gu An feel crushing pressure.
Even if the other man appeared humble and low-key before his Little Junior Brother, like some groveling lapdog, that was only because he was facing Little Junior Brother.
So whatever thoughts he had, he could keep them to himself. Saying them aloud would mean offending someone.
Cultivators were not like mortals. Even among mortals, with only a few decades to live, one could still meet disaster at any time—let alone cultivators, beings capable of living for thousands of years.
Knowing