The Tribulation clouds pressed down on the city, seemingly vast and endless.
The purple-green color was like the back of a whale's scales. It was cold and indifferent, showing the might of the heavens.
In the darkness, strong winds rose from all directions, and the feeling of a sharp blade hanging above his head surged. It was as if countless tiny needles were stabbing his body from top to bottom, and they were still brewing a shocking attack.
The martial ancestor of taste of the world stood alone in the air. His green robe was like a flag, fluttering in the wind. There was no change in his clear eyes.
All the other living beings were immediately sent far away from the Tribulation.
