The human cultivator had disappeared, but the uneasy feeling Wang Wu had lingered in his heart, as if bitten by a venomous snake, living forever under its shadow.
Undoubtedly, this was the truly exceptional talent among the human race, one of the top contenders.
This was the kind of existence destined to ascend to the first grade.
The true king.
Yet, compared to the few elite members with three demon pills concealed by the old turtle in the Southern Wilderness Demon Race Legion, this individual was unmatched.
"Younger Brother Xiong, are you alright?"
Finally, a timid Great Demon next to him inquired; in one encounter, they suffered six deaths and one injury, and they hadn't even seen clearly, let alone knew how to block, attack, or lock on; this was a huge blow to their morale.
Even though they were Third-Grade Great Demons and knew death was inevitable, at least they had to die trying with all their might, damn it.
