With the dagger piercing his chest, a cold glint flashed in the eyes of the elder of the Snow Mountain Tribe before he collapsed onto the ground.
He was already dead, having entrusted all his hopes in Chen Hao and his group before his demise.
"When you have faith, how can you be free?" The Second Generation Nether King said, looking at the gradually freezing corpse of the elder. As someone who had fashioned himself into a god, he knew better than anyone the restraints faith imposed on a person.
"Elder!" Below the altar, the girls of the Snow Mountain Tribe wept in unison.
The Second Generation Nether King released the dagger from the elder's chest, and instantly a black flame called the Nether King's Fire appeared in his left hand, incinerating the elder's body.