"The weak deserve to die; the strong seize everything!"
"Realm Master..."
The young cultivator seemed to feel the trace of despair and sorrow deep in the middle-aged cultivator's tone, and couldn't help but show a few traces of sadness on his face.
The middle-aged cultivator slowly raised his head, looking into the dark, vast void, murmuring:
"I, 'Gao Yu', am not a qualified Realm Master. The Stone Poverty Realm is declining in my hands, and now we even need to sell our own people to sustain the cultivation of our descendants... I am ashamed of the ancestors, but no matter what, I must pass down the Stone Poverty Realm!"
"Even if... it means death!"
Hearing the middle-aged cultivator's soft soliloquy, the young cultivator was shaken.
A trace of sorrow flashed in his heart.
They truly were unmitigated weaklings.
But in these chaotic times, can't the weak even hope to live in a corner in peace?
In this Sea of Chaos Realm, where is the land of peace?
