These guys really did look ferocious, but that also showed just how straightforward they were. They would not beat around the bush with you—if they were dissatisfied, they settled it with their fists.
"Enough. Stop arguing."
The moment Poison Venerable spoke, the chaos ahead instantly froze. The demons who had been on the verge of fighting all stood obediently where they were, not daring to make a sound.
Yet pair after pair of eyes continued to clash.
Their gazes were brimming with defiance.
But no matter how unwilling they were, they still had to listen to Poison Venerable. Otherwise, the ancestor would beat their fathers, and their fathers would hang them up and beat them.
They feared their fathers from the bottom of their hearts, while their fathers feared the ancestor from the bottom of theirs.
After all, the ancestor had beaten them from childhood all the way to adulthood.
As the saying went, one thing always subdued another.
"How many of you are there?"
Poison Venerable asked as he looked at the vast, dark mass before him.
"Four thousand three hundred and eighty-two."
Someone answered almost instantly.
Hearing that number, Poison Venerable smacked his lips in surprise. There really were quite a lot of them.
"Good. Four thousand three hundred and eighty-two. Divide yourselves into four groups, and select a leader for each group. I'll give you half an hour. In half an hour, I want to see the leaders of every group."
As soon as Poison Venerable finished speaking, the powder keg was lit. They no longer held back and immediately began brawling with one another.
A leader fought out with fists commanded greater respect. Otherwise, even if Poison Venerable randomly chose someone, they might submit on the surface while remaining unconvinced in private.
Poison Venerable did not