Amidst the floating clouds, there was a dead silence.
Everyone was speechless, staring blankly at the scene before them.
An eight-hundred-year-old Great Demon, comparable to a mid-stage Golden Core, had fallen just like that?
"Th-this this..."
Wu Taiqing's voice was somewhat stammering, his words incoherent.
Although he knew that Gu Yuan was formidable, having made a great name for himself in the internal strife of the Thousand Waves Sect, rumors were still just rumors, not as shocking as seeing it with his own eyes.
The Poison Cloud Python, a mid-stage Great Demon with eight hundred years of cultivation, was cut down by the sword in just a few breaths. If the sword light had been aimed at him, what would the outcome have been?
At this thought, cold sweat trickled down Wu Taiqing's back, and he felt a sense of awe and fear towards Gu Yuan.
