Ning Cheng didn't have to wait long to find out.
A bone-chilling cold huff came from the sky, and even Ning Cheng, who was inside the inn, felt his heart thumping violently in bursts. The cold snort was like a hammer striking his chest, unbearably painful.
Such formidable cultivation, just as this thought flashed through Ning Cheng's mind, an enormous hand slammed down, instantly reducing the tens of thousands of cultivators still fighting into mere fragments, as if they were ants being crushed.
The street, which had been in utter chaos just a few seconds earlier, became empty and eerily quiet after the massive hand crushed down.
Ning Cheng felt a tingling in his scalp. The power of the Xing He King was something he could still imagine. But the strength of this hand's owner was something he hadn't even dared to think of before. Could this person be comparable to those mighty figures he saw in Ji Wuqing Lei City?
