The Meaning of Respect

The skies gradually cleared.

The rain had stopped some time ago.

It might have ceased because of Elder Sang's Infernal Heavens, which had vaporized the storm clouds entirely, or because of the gaping black hole that Ye Xiaotian had ripped in the skies, devouring everything in sight.

Regardless of what they had done, no one could stop the masked stranger from leaving if the latter desired so.

The nine founding elders felt slightly disheartened. They had done little tonight.

They'd been of no help to anyone but the masked figure, who had used them to keep Ye Xiaotian in check. They'd only contributed the rain and a little sprinkle of their own blood to the fight.

"We've gotten old."

"That's right. We're old. We can't deny the truth."

They sighed heavily. The extent of their injuries was something that they could handle on their own.