Qing Chen gazed at Cold Mountain Temple below the steps, corpses strewn across its grounds, and a cruel smile curled his lips.
"Yuwen."
The brief syllables rang like a blade leaving its sheath, and the black-robed man kneeling on the green bricks shuddered.
Yuwen Bujing shuffled half a step forward on his knees and knocked his forehead hard against a crack between the bricks. "At your command!"
"I do not like waiting," Qing Chen warned. "Clear out the remnants. Tell King Yanluo to move faster."
Yuwen Bujing abruptly straightened his back, his eyes flashing behind his Demon Envoy mask, and clasped his hands in salute.
"Rest assured, my Devil Lord. I shall purge the remnants at once and notify King Yanluo to quicken his pace! The corpses of the cultivators within a thousand li of Xuanchi Island, along with inventories of every household's stores, shall be laid before your desk!"
Having finished his salute and received Qing Chen's permission, he swiftly turned and shouted to the Demon Guards, "Form ranks! Follow me out!"
At his command, the Demon Guards swiftly formed orderly ranks, practically indistinguishable from well-trained Dao Soldiers.
They understood that many important tasks still lay ahead. They had to kill cultivators and plunder resources for the Devil Lord; not a moment could be wasted.
Led by Yuwen Bujing, the Demon Guards swiftly withdrew from Cold Mountain Temple, leaving only the lingering stench of blood.
Qing Chen watched the black torrent sweep out through the temple gates. Before long, it vanished beyond the reach of his Divine Sense.
He lightly tapped his toes, and the blood lotus bore his demonic body slowly downward.
"That saved me the trouble of cleaning up." Qing Chen was rather satisfied.
His brow lifted slightly, his icy gaze sweeping over the mortals sprawled across