"You still foolishly think you're loyal? Keep dreaming. No matter how loyal you are, can that master of yours even see it?"
"If you ask me, that Yang Chen is overestimating himself. He just had to go to the Demigod Battlefield. That place is where who knew how many Demigod Stage experts from the major sects have fallen. Was he looking for death?"
"Heh heh, maybe he thought his life was too long."
The crowd sneered and mocked without restraint.
"It'd be best if he died. Then wouldn't this treasured land of feng shui finally be ours to enjoy?"
"Hahaha, that makes perfect sense."
Zhang He said furiously, "What are you so pleased about? My young master has already returned. Get the hell back where you came from."
"Oh?" The leading core disciple sneered. "Zhang He, do you know how many rumors there have been over the years claiming Yang Chen had returned? If not ten times, then at least eight. But when had Yang Chen ever actually come back?"
"If you want to blame someone, blame his bad luck. He fell right after becoming a true disciple. Hahaha."
"Still dreaming that Yang Chen has returned?"
The core disciples laughed wildly, their faces full of disdain for Zhang He as they made to barge inside.
But at that moment, an incomparably terrifying aura suddenly swept over them like a raging storm, crushing the core disciples flat onto the ground. They could neither rise nor breathe properly.
"Who—who did this?" The core disciples stared wide-eyed, unable to believe what they were seeing and hearing.
It was too strong. That terrifying pressure, that horrifying strength—they could feel that if this person wished it, they would be killed like ants at any moment.
"You said I was dead?" A cold voice rolled forth.