Morgan Quinn sneered, his face a mask of arrogance. "I've never needed to explain my actions to anyone in my life. Especially not to Demon Cultivators like you. Killing you is ridding the Cultivation World of a scourge."
CLAP. CLAP.
Celeste Grant clapped her hands.
"Nicely put, 'fellow Cultivator.' You've certainly got the arrogant act down. It's just that your face clearly doesn't meet the standards for pulling it off. Something just feels… lacking. You should really witness the grace of our Exalted One and take some notes. If you can't back it up, don't put on airs. That kind of act just begs to be struck by lightning."
The Demon Cultivators at her side burst out laughing, chiming in one after another with their scorn.
"That's right! We've been sick of your face for a while now."
"With a face like yours? You're not worthy of being compared to a single strand of our Exalted One's hair. And you still have the nerve to stand there posing in red? Pfft."
