"Crash..."
Like a giant stone thrown into a calm lake, Fang Xing's words disrupted the once lively and friendly atmosphere. The Divine Land cultivators, who had been full of smiles, fell silent and cold, and the cultivators who were bustling to set up a grand formation also hesitated and stopped. At this moment, countless gazes turned toward Fang Xing, including those of the Demon State cultivators who had retreated miles away, each with strange, intent eyes.
"Daoist Fang, what do you mean by this?"
After a long silence, an older cultivator finally spoke, his gaze solemn and as cold as ice.
"I mean that what I seize is mine. Anyone who dares to reach out, I'll chop off their hand!"
Fang Xing stood his ground, carrying his saber defiantly.
"Daoist Fang, you're wrong. This entire mountain range with dozens of peaks—do you intend to claim it all?"
