"Have you heard? In this battle, the number of foreign race beings slain... seems to exceed ten million!"
A group of city guards were chatting more and more enthusiastically.
"Yeah! Those foreign race beings are real pushovers! Not a single one can fight! If I had known, I would have gone to the front line to earn some merits!"
"Exactly! We all grew up hearing terrifying stories about the foreign race, yet it turns out they're just fancy but useless embroidered pillowcases!"
"I heard among the foreign race, there are few with strength above the Immortal level! Such a hollow display! We've wasted so many years guarding tirelessly!"
Su Xing sat casually in a tavern, drinking and eating meat, using his divine sense to listen to these "low-level" cultivators chatting, finding it quite interesting.
This batch of city guards might be the true portrayal of ordinary cultivators in the Little Qingyun Realm.
Afraid of death, pursuing profit, yet envying those cultivators who soar.
