More than ten years had passed since Yang Yuanhong entered secluded cultivation.
By now, he no longer looked like the youth he once had. His entire bearing had grown ever more restrained and profound.
When they first met, neither the cultivator surnamed Qin nor the gray-robed Old Devil recognized him. They had assumed he had altered his appearance with some disguise technique.
Hearing Yang Yuanhong's blatant words of provocation, the cultivator surnamed Qin's heart tightened, and he immediately began guarding against the gray-robed Old Devil beside him.
He had spent decades on the Demonic Path side and knew all too well how unpredictable these demonic cultivators were.
Calling each other brothers one moment and cutting off heads to drink blood the next was commonplace in Demon Soil.
Only because of the current Great Competition of Two Daos, with the Demon Sect presenting a united front against outsiders, had such acts of mutual betrayal and internal slaughter become less common.
But less common did not mean they would never happen.
Just like the predicament the two of them now faced.
If this hooded cultivator truly possessed the terrifying strength to kill them both, then under the threat of death, the gray-robed Old Devil would certainly not hesitate to turn on him in order to cling to life.
"Fellow Daoist Qin, do not let another's words sow discord and throw yourself into disarray."
The gray-robed Old Devil steadied himself. Noticing the change in the cultivator surnamed Qin's expression, he spoke to reassure him, "This old man has seen great storms and towering waves. I would not do something as foolish as cutting off my own arm merely because of his few words."
"The Eighteen Sons of Yin-Yang are all here. If you and I join forces, we may not necessarily be unable