A young Green Mountain disciples taking such a stance before the Nether Emperor, inviting him to attack as he pleased, would have struck anyone as absurd, let alone the Nether Emperor himself.
"You've been imprisoned too long."
Beyond that, Jing Jiu offered no further explanation.
Anyone who endured more than six hundred years in the Demon-Suppressing Prison would inevitably suffer a great loss of cultivation.
More importantly, this seemingly lush and pleasant valley was still part of Taichang Prison. It was cut off from heaven and earth, and there was no Nether River Earthfire here. Cultivation was impossible; one could only let the vital energy or soul fire within one's body gradually disperse in the tiniest traces, vanishing into that dark space.
By Jing Jiu's calculations, the Nether Emperor now possessed, at most, one percent of his former strength.
But even the feeblest Nether Emperor was still the Nether Emperor.
A sword cultivator in the Wuzhang Mid-Realm had no way to defeat him.
The Nether Emperor looked at Jing Jiu, his eyes devoid of emotion, and said, "But it's enough to kill an ant like you."
Jing Jiu's answer remained concise, consisting of a single word.
"Please."
Soul fire had neither form nor color, and naturally was difficult to count.
Jing Jiu suddenly sensed countless soul fires filling this world.
The next moment, those formless, colorless soul fires emerged through the lush wild grass, the purple flowers, and the azure sky, as though coated in an extremely faint layer of color.
His vision immediately filled with faint patches of color. Whichever way he looked, he could see them.
Strangely, these faintly colored soul fires differed from the Nether Master's soul fire he had seen before. They felt extraordinarily alive.
This should be the Soul Fire Control he wanted to learn.