"Saint King, did the Netherworld truly abandon its defense entirely?" A hot-tempered True Saint directly asked his thoughts.
The Saint King walked at the forefront, his steps still unhurried, but his figure seemed to carry an indescribable fatigue.
He didn't turn around, merely asked calmly back, his voice exceptionally clear in the silent starry sky:
"Do you think there's still a need to defend?"
All the strong figures looked at each other in confusion.
This was their doubt too—does the Netherworld truly require their protection?
It seems... it doesn't need it?
These people suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of out-of-place... redundancy.
"There were more than one who made a move before."
The Saint King suddenly spoke, his gaze directed at the two surging rivers in the void.
