As the Netherworld King's words fell, the entire Epoch Battlefield went silent for an instant.
The Netherworld King was a real man... a real male demon!
He actually dared to say such words!
The hooded man remained hidden in the shadows, his expression unreadable.
But his fingers tightened slightly.
That instant of silence, that fleeting tension in his knuckles—neither escaped the Netherworld King's eyes.
"Heh..."
The Netherworld King laughed triumphantly. Demonic blood still spilled from the corner of his mouth, yet his defiant eyes shone with startling brilliance. "Did I hit the mark?"
The hooded man said nothing.
But his aura, which had always been as still as an abyss, wavered ever so slightly at that moment.
The Netherworld King slowly stood.
His legs trembled, his bones groaned, and his damaged Netherworld King Sword stood planted in the ground, supporting his broken body.
Yet he stood tall and proud!
He raised his head, demonic flame burning in his eyes—fiercer, purer, and more frenzied than before!
"You think you can look down on me?"
"You think that because you came from a distant age, because you have countless billions of years of accumulated power behind you, you have the right to trample us?"
He slowly raised his hand. A black-and-crimson light began to gather in his palm.
That light differed from any power the Netherworld King had used before, as though it were something far more primordial.
"You are wrong!"
"Hundreds of billions of years ago, I could already have stepped into the realm of the taboo."
"But I suppressed my cultivation."
"Why?"
"Because I was waiting."
"Waiting for an opponent."
"Waiting for an opponent who could make me burn away everything."
"Waiting for an opponent... worthy of making me take that final step!"
Behind the Netherworld King, the lingering phantom