A flicker of excitement appeared on all these figures' faces.
They had not forgotten what these figures were.
No, they should be called immortals.
Talk of immortals had also spread among them.
For those figures who kept watch over demons, what had happened seven days ago was far too momentous.
After all, they had never expected it.
The upheaval seven days ago had not only muddled the heavenly secrets beyond measure, but compared to before, it was impossible to make anything out.
Yet for many who had also kept an eye on that black flood dragon, there were no other possibilities in the heavenly secrets.
Other than succeeding in its tribulation, it could only have failed it.
There was no third possibility.
Yet the result was precisely one of those two possibilities.
It was correct, and yet there was even greater uproar within that result.
Because, strictly speaking, the black flood dragon was dead.
But it had not died from failing its tribulation.
On the contrary, barring any accident, the black flood dragon should already have succeeded in its tribulation.
Yet an accident had occurred—one no one had anticipated.
Who could have imagined that the black flood dragon would run into those immortals who had arrived here?
Having completed its tribulation, before it could even become a supreme demon, it had perished just like that.
Even the figures who had watched the outcome of that tribulation had not expected things to turn out that way. Who could have imagined it?
The immortals had appeared, and over these seven days, enough people had learned what had happened.
Immortals—cultivators who rode clouds and mist, who turned the clouds and stirred the rain.
No wonder everyone had felt an irresistible pressure the moment they appeared.
The reason this group in the valley had