Seeing this, Su Chen stopped.
With his strength, killing an Ancient Immortal whose lifespan was nearly depleted, who had yet to recover their Peak strength, and who had been scared witless, would not be too difficult for him.
But if he did, Xuan would likely die.
"Thank you… thank you, Senior Great Demon…"
Aboard the covered boat.
Wun Sandao stepped forward, cupped his fists, and offered his thanks.
Su Chen lifted his gaze to the Black-armored Man. He had once been full of spirit, his arrogance soaring to the heavens. Nine years had passed, and the man was now in his forties.
For a Cultivator, this should have been the prime of his life, a time of high spirits. Yet Wun Sandao's temples were streaked with white, and his former sharp edge was gone, replaced by a polished deference. His spine was bent as he bowed respectfully to him.
Nine years ago, even if he had been saved, he would never have been this humble.
Su Chen was lost in thought for a moment.
