Qing Chen paid no heed to what the three were thinking. He abruptly turned his gaze back, a keen gleam flashing in his eyes:
"Don't doubt me. With Penglai True Lord dead, the Eight Grotto Spirit Islands thrown into chaos, and Wu Gui scheming and plotting, without me, Qing Chen, in Gouwu Sea, who knows how many would proclaim themselves overlords, how many island groups would slaughter one another?"
"When rival powers rise and tear into each other, across these tens of millions of miles of Gouwu Sea, what island would remain unstained by blood? What family of cultivators would escape calamity?"
His tone suddenly sharpened. "All I have done is stop killing with killing, stop war with war! Sweep away the wicked, with nothing on my conscience!"
His words rang out with force, actually carrying a measure of tragic grandeur.
Tie Ming and Wei Ting exchanged a glance, each seeing a trace of absurdity in the other's eyes, though they quickly concealed it.
They had never imagined things could be put that way. It truly broadened their horizons.
All this elaborate song and dance-the bloody storms that had swept Gouwu Sea over the years had all been for... peace?
Gong Shisan was somewhat speechless too. Only after a moment of silence did he respond:
"Brother Qing, if those words reached the outside world, I fear few would believe them. To be frank, a poem has already spread through Qiongzhou, and even the southeastern coast of Great Jin. It was written about you."
Qing Chen raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oh? Let me hear it."
Gong Shisan did not keep him in suspense and immediately recited:
"A blood river rolls its waves, overturning a thousand sails; the old devil levels his halberd, subduing seas and mountains."
"Bones pile into a road