Above the waters of Xihong.

Several mighty figures were arguing without end.

"I am not going back!"

"However great the Dragon Palace's power, can it reach onto the land and meddle in my affairs?"

An Tuxiao looked back savagely. As a young prodigy of the Bright-Moon Frost Tiger clan, to be humiliated so mercilessly in front of that many of Xihong's powers — how was he ever to hold his head up again?

"Call it giving the Dragon Consort her face, and let him off this once." Several old demons of his clan handed him a way down as though they were coaxing a small child.

"I know you are afraid his backing runs too deep to sound… but it is not as though we have never killed a cultivator with backing! Especially the sort who plays the ghost and the spirit, thinks himself something wonderful, and likes to hide his identity." An Tuxiao drew a deep breath and forced himself calm.

"Hold your tongue!" The old demons of his clan felt their faces twitch, and looked warily about them.

This wretched creature. Once his temper was up there was nothing he did not dare say. As a demon clan of the land they had a hard enough time contending with the Dragon Palace for any resource, and they kept the ground they held as far from the waters as they could. If they did not go and scrape a little off travelers now and then, where were they to find heaven-and-earth treasures enough for their demon bodies?

The prodigies who came out from the great powers to wander the world were treasure from head to foot, and were naturally a fine dish in a demon clan's eyes.

But! This time the case was plainly different.

That young man in the ink robe had a backing that ran somewhat beyond any situation they could control.

To put a claw out again would mean they had genuinely gone soft in the head.

"Fools! Fools! Fools!"

An Tuxiao let out several low roars one after another. "Have any of you thought about…