What excellent arithmetic!
If the occasion had not been so special, Ma Qianli would have slammed the table in excitement.
Elder Yang's words carried profound meaning.
Why had he said at the start that he would not hesitate even if the entire Longevity Sect had to be slaughtered until only two remained?
It meant that aside from Sun Cheng and Lü Zheng, those two lackeys, anyone could be killed.
Then why had he later said that apart from twelve people, whoever stood in the way would die?
Clearly, he had counted all of them present among those twelve.
Ten Reverted Elixir cultivators, plus two lackeys, made exactly twelve people.
But there seemed to be a problem here. Elder Yang did not seem to have counted himself. Could it be that he did not count as a member of the Longevity Sect?
Nor had he counted Devil Lord Sackcloth.
Could Devil Lord Sackcloth be killed too?
There was still something wrong with this arithmetic.
But it did not matter. The important thing was to grasp the spirit of it. Elder Yang was recruiting defectors and taking in rebels, telling all the Reverted Elixir cultivators present that no matter whose dock they had once worshipped at, their godfather now—no, their real father—was Elder Yang.
He was throwing wide the gates of mercy, saving suffering sentient beings like them.
Ma Qianli could hardly wait to kowtow to Elder Yang and respectfully call him Master.
As he racked his brains for how to declare his loyalty, he heard the fat Li Mingyuan beside him raise his wine cup and shout.
"First Seat!"
What was going on?
Ma Qianli turned his head and saw only Li Mingyuan's eyes brimming with tears, a wine cup in his hand, his body even trembling faintly.
"What the First