"All right..."
However, Gary Smith's response was... to swiftly stow away the Feather of the Moon Crow, then he stood up, patted his clothes, and used Thorns to freshen up the smell.
He turned his head and looked at the astonished Dark Moon Demon King, smiling said: "Since reason doesn't work, let's talk with our fists."
The fundamental law of this world is the survival of the fittest.
It is true for wild beasts, ordinary humans, Beastmasters, and even for Great Existences.
What so-called civilization is, after all, nothing but an outer garment.
How could Taboos maintain logic without strength?
Anyone trying to revise reality would be hammered into submission by the Mother River in no time.
Such confident and unencumbered demeanor made the Dark Moon Demon King laugh in spite of herself.
Where does his confidence come from?
From the Sun King Bloodline on his body? Or...
The nine True King Level Ancient Elders deep within the Supreme Sun?
