Buzz... Buzz... Buzz!
The air trembled!
Some drew their swords, others drew their knives.
There were those who directly took off their pants, retrieved all kinds of hidden weapons from within, and started to spin and slash frantically.
Immediately after, they soared straight towards the Demon Lord's Pavilion.
Greed glinted in their eyes.
In the end, their so-called speeches of hatred were but a disguise; what truly drove them to kill was nothing but their inner greed.
Dozens of cultists descended like dark clouds.
Some flew through the air, others had lotuses blossoming above their heads, all their oppressive might converging towards Fang Yang.
Fang Yang had been looking down, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth. Perhaps sensing the stirring killing intent, he lifted his head.
Narrowing his eyes at this scene, he shook his head.
