At this moment, aboard one of the bone ships.
A T6 Oracle-grade crossed his arms, his gaze coldly fixed on the direction of the Black River Realm.
"A million years ago, the Black River Sage was already one of the most senior among T5 Oracle-grades."
"Hundreds of thousands of years later, I have already survived the fifth Holy Tribulation, yet he still remains where he was."
Many-Armed Tyrant's tone was filled with contempt.
"Does such trash deserve to possess such vast wealth?"
"What is even more laughable is that despite sitting on so many resources, he cannot even cultivate a decent successor. After all these years, he has failed to raise even a single T6."
The T5 Oracle-grade beside him quickly echoed,
"That is only because you are merciful, my lord, and gave him a path to survival. That so-called defensive grand formation of his is no different from paper before us."
"Hmph."
Many-Armed Tyrant snorted coldly, and a cold arc rose at the corner of his mouth.
