The courtyard was as silent as a needle drop.
Several gazes sharp as knives pierced through Xiyun, causing cold sweat to trickle down his forehead.
As he wiped his brow with his fingertip, he felt his knuckles trembling slightly.
Had he delayed speaking for another moment, the decisive golden blades of the Jinzhou Guards might have already cleaved that Pseudo-God in two.
The consequences of their wrath redirected at him would be unimaginable.
Yang Quanfeng's voice was as cold as iron: "Do not delay any longer, quickly explain in detail how to unravel the grievances plaguing the Pseudo-God."
Once these words were out, Xiyun realized he shouldn't stall any further, hurriedly putting down his right hand that was wiping the sweat.
"To resolve the grievances in one's heart, one can transform them into motivation."
"Your esteemed selves can release it and suppress it simultaneously."
