It wasn't just their skeletons; their Primordial Spirits were also imprisoned on the flagpoles. Their spirits, now translucent, glared viciously at the cultivators of the Demonic Domain.
For a Cultivator, even if their physical body was destroyed, their Primordial Spirit would remain.
These two elders from the Holy Land of the Immortal Domain hated Javier Sinclair to the bone.
"Javier Sinclair, you Demon! What's the point of humiliating us like this? If you have any guts, give us a quick death."
That was only one of them shouting. The other kept his head down, silent. Perhaps he was truly afraid of death. After all, though his body was gone, his Primordial Spirit remained. But if his Divine Soul were to be extinguished, that would be a true, final death.
Javier Sinclair gave a light wave of his hand, and the Flying Palace he was seated upon slowly descended, coming to a halt on the ground. He straightened his posture and rested a hand to his side.
