Zeshan.
Ji Hong calmly watched in the direction of Skyvault Ravine, his face expressionless.
Xiangliu coiled atop the mountain, a trace of fear still in his eyes.
Or rather, a measure of relief.
Relief that the madman had chosen the Golden Eagle rather than him.
"Heh, whatever price we paid in this battle, the Human Race has permanently lost an elder of Ink Pavilion."
"The Human Race has far fewer experts at that pinnacle than the Demon Domain."
"A worthwhile trade."
Ji Hong suddenly spoke with a faint smile.
"And the Myriad Gods Church has botched things time and again, even using our Demon Domain as a pawn."
"It's time they were taught a lesson, too."
Ji Hong continued.
"Handle those things as you see fit. I need to sleep for a while."
"You'll handle all affairs on Zeshan, great and small."
Xiangliu's voice was low as the eyes on his nine serpentine heads slowly closed.
It was like a snake entering hibernation.
Ji Hong smiled and shook his head, then walked deep into the mountains with his hands behind his back.
But the moment he turned, his face grew a little pale, his body swayed slightly, and he clenched his fists.
He soon returned to normal.
At Demon-Suppressing Pass.
Not a sound could be heard.
Zhong Yushu slowly rose, gazing at the distant Demon Domain. He drew a deep breath, his eyes bloodshot. "Those at the Ninth Awakening lie low in the mountains, while those at the Eighth Awakening hold things together..."
"Heh..."
"What a wretched age."
Turning to look at the grieving soldiers, Zhong Yushu roared, "What the hell are you all doing?"
"Put a damn smile on your faces!"
"This battle was a great victory for our Human Race!"
**"One of the Ten Elders of Ink