The Nine-Yang Supreme is one who is infinitely close to a Martial Emperor. His combat power is terrifying. To put it bluntly, a person like him, even plucking a single hair, would be endlessly beneficial. It's not in Marshall Morgan's nature not to ask for some benefits.
The eyelids of the Nine-Yang Supreme twitched, and the corners of his mouth quivered.
Divine-level Martial Techniques? Divine pills? Dozens of them?
What does Marshall Morgan think Divine-levels are? Cabbages?
"Senior, what's wrong? Are you unwell? Why are the corners of your mouth twitching?"
Marshall Morgan asked in surprise.
"No, it's nothing."
