High in the sky.
Standing on the ship, Javier Sinclair's gaze swept over them. "I have no interest whatsoever in this Immortal-Demon War you speak of," he said calmly. "However, if you're feeling all high and mighty and decide your head should part ways with your body, just let me know. I'd be happy to oblige at any time."
Hearing this, the expressions of the crowd below turned ugly—this was true for the people of the Falling Snow Sect, as well as the elder and disciples who had come from the Crimson Sun Sect. All of them were furious but dared not speak their minds. Among them, Raymond Rhodes, the Sect Master of the Falling Snow Sect, had the foulest expression of all.
What could be more infuriating than your opponent not even considering you a threat?
"You..."
'I want to curse him out so badly.'
'But I don't dare.'
'I can only endure it.'
Still, he was the Sect Leader of the Falling snow Sect, one of the Seven Great Celestial Sects; he had to have some courage.
