Within Wu Liao's sinister yet lavish temporary palace in the Demon Plane, all the plane's high-ranking powerhouses had gathered. The place was now like a vortex on the verge of unleashing a storm.
The pungent smell of sulfur permeated the entire palace. Eerie green flames burned along the walls, their flickering tongues seeming to whisper of the approaching danger.
Above, on the palace dome, enormous demonic reliefs seemed to come alive, exuding a chilling aura.
The tremendous fluctuations from the planar passage and the mobilization of the Demon Legion on Wu Jie's side could hardly have escaped their notice.
In the increasingly barren Demon Plane, every inch of land seemed to have been squeezed dry of its last trace of nourishment. Life energy was as scarce as a clear spring in the desert.
Each opening of a planar passage was like a grand festival, a rare banquet of resources from which they could obtain life energy.
The Demon Monarchs were like starving wolves, staring fixedly at the passage about to open, greed glittering in their eyes.
At that moment, chaos and clamor mingled not far from the passage.
Several other Demon Monarchs had gathered there with their Demon Legions, and the air immediately filled with a thick
killing intent.
Demon Monarchs such as Alba and Bal were the strongest beings in the Demon Plane, comparable to the ultimate powerhouses of the human world. They stood at the very top of the Demon Plane.
They had dealt with one another often enough.
Yet now, as they looked at their colleagues, their eyes were filled with hostility and wariness.
They all knew the others shared their goal: once Wu Liao and his legion arrived, they wanted a slice of the pie, securing a share of those scarce life resources for their own