Asmatos spoke cautiously. "Great Lord Molisa, a Ten Thousand Races expert at the peak quasi-saint stage."
Molisa slapped his forehead. "Right, right, you came to request an expert at the peak quasi-saint stage. I'll arrange one for you. Go back first. You'll take over the Second Camp, and its former commander will go to the recruit camp. The One-Horned Devil Immortal will establish a new independent camp dedicated to dealing with the Holy Monk."
"All right, that's settled. Go get it done, and stop bothering me."
Asmatos nodded. Carrying the One-Horned Devil Immortal on his back, he left headquarters at a brisk pace, not daring to linger at all.
He was terrified of displeasing Lord Molisa.
The Demon Saint was a Sage of the Devil Race, the only one who had been dispatched to the Primordial World.
The mission resting on his shoulders was to eliminate the various races of the Primordial World and turn it into the Devil Race's main base.
But the task was far too difficult. Amassing ten billion devil soldiers had already exhausted his heart and mind.
Yet he did not want to treat these devil soldiers as expendable.
He had had enough of living under the Devil Ancestor's control.
Now, he wanted to hunt down a Sage of the Primordial World.
He simply had no idea how to go about it yet.
That was why he had refrained from making any major moves.
The Devil Ancestor had to be plunged into a crisis, leaving him no attention to spare for anything else. Only then could he avoid interfering with any of Molisa's plans.
After leaving the Devil Race's headquarters, the One-Horned Devil Immortal was still somewhat dazed.
"Asmatos, am I a commander now, just like you?"
Asmatos replied irritably, "Are you showing off to me?