"Three hundred and seventy-six Soul Slaves, all dead at the same instant..."
Atop a precipitous mountain peak stood the Spirit Plant Divine Hall.
The bewitchingly handsome young man, Hundred-Flower Nether Lord, stood in the center of the great hall. As he sensed those foul auras vanish completely, an amused curve slowly formed at the corner of his mouth.
He turned toward the two white-robed elders behind him, wearing a half-smile. "This man's strength is not insignificant, but he dares not storm the Divine Hall. Instead, he attacks those petty underlings."
"So... I can say with certainty that he has not reached the Spirit Transformation Stage. At most, he is like the two of you, with one foot across its threshold!"
The two elders exchanged a glance, then bowed slightly without saying anything more.
Their minds were not currently controlled by the Evil Soul Seal, but their lives lay in Hundred-Flower Nether Lord's hands. They truly had no choice.
Now, a powerful Human Race cultivator had appeared and slaughtered every Soul Slave except them. His target was clearly the Nine Ancient Swords within the Divine Hall.
If this man could control the Ancient Swords, perhaps he really could kill Hundred-Flower Nether Lord and restore peace to the Spirit Origin Continent!
"I know what you are thinking."
Hundred-Flower Nether Lord swept his gaze over their faces and scoffed softly. "I might as well tell you: once my master recovers, he will soon return to this realm."
"When that time comes, where will your human race find so many cultivators at the spirit transformation pinnacle? How will you drain my master's vital energy again?"
"The Spirit Origin Continent will belong to my master. Unless someone can unleash the Ancient Swords' full might, my master is invincible in this realm. Absolutely no one can