The man in the conical hat cut an extremely sorry figure. His flesh was battered, and blood burbled like waters from a spring.1

Especially his face. It had been smashed into a meaty pulp, and it was a cruel, brutal sight.0

When they heard him roar “enough!” with rage and desperation, Su Yi and the Netherworld King’s expressions were increasingly strange.0

Earlier, the man in the conical hat said that at his cultivation, he’d long since ceased to care about glory and humiliation, and he didn’t fear death. Yet now, he’d been beaten and humiliated so badly, he almost wanted to die. He was completely enraged.0

“You’ve occupied a lofty position for too long. You think of yourself as a god or immortal, and you think you can look down upon the Human Realm from on high. But now that you’ve fallen from your pedestal, how are you any different from a dead dog?” The Temple Master’s voice boomed. He sounded free and at ease, but also a bit contemptuous.0

“Unfortunately for you, I haven’t ‘fallen from my pedestal’ yet!” The man in the conical hat’s breathing was ragged, but shortly after, his wounds rapidly knit together, good as new.1

His sleeves billowed, and he suddenly raised his hand and tapped.0

Weng!0

The black treasure ship burst with resplendent...0