In the depths of the mountains, a dark and silent place.
Demonic energy surged, pervading in all directions.
Amid such Demon Lands, a small courtyard abruptly situated halfway up a tall mountain.
In the courtyard, an old man wearing a long robe, his complexion slightly pale, was moving his right hand.
If one looked closely, one could see that the skin on the right hand was newly grown and tender, starkly different from the left hand.
It was as if... it had just grown out.
"A Great Saint of the Demon race, to actually have an arm severed by a Martial Artist below the Martial Saint, truly is..."
A voice suddenly appeared, and a chill flashed in the old man's eyes as he casually threw a teacup in front of him.
Whoosh!!
Boom!!!
The teacup, like a streak of light, shot out and instantly pierced through a distant mountain, causing it to crumble and collapse.
Several breaths later, a handsome man wearing a black robe and with horns on his head appeared in the courtyard.
