By then, Zhao's face had grown back.
Four serpent heads circled him, each occupying one side.
But that once-handsome face was now nothing but writhing flesh, crimson churning through it, occasionally squeezing out a few fine threads of blood. A single glance was enough to turn one's stomach.
Within the Sea Vein Sinkhole, a hundred thousand Demon Cultivators erupted in an uproar.
"Is-is this the Jiuying Clan's true form?"
"The Jiuying Young Lord-he's actually been forced this far!"
"Just what is that Human Race cultivator?"
Waves of discussion rose, only to be swiftly suppressed by a chill.
No one could say where that chill came from. They only felt their chests tighten.
Zhao slowly straightened.
"Since cultivating the Four Infants, I have never revealed my true body before anyone."
"Not even my royal father has seen it."
His voice came from all four serpent heads at once, overlapping like four throats whispering in unison, yet each slightly out of step. It was deeply unpleasant to hear.
"You are the first. Human Race cultivator, you should feel honored."
Song Yan neither spoke nor moved.
Gold and red flowed through his Double Pupils as he quietly examined the four serpent heads before him, as though looking at some novelty he had never seen before.
On the raised platform in the middle ring, upon the kings' thrones.
The demon kings wore differing expressions.
Watching three great generals of the Jiuying Clan die in an instant, Lang felt a faint ache in his heart.
He had personally selected all three and spared no effort in nurturing them.
Among the younger generation of the entire Eastern Sea, few could surpass them in combat strength.
Now they were simply gone.
Even so, Lang still did not believe Zhao would lose to his opponent.
Others might not