The Divine Land was united, and the Han people cheered and leapt for joy.
When some rejoiced, naturally, there were others who felt lost.
In the Sky Prison, Sun Taxuan lay dying, shackled in iron chains, motionless, his head drooping, his thoughts unknown.
In the past few days, he had been relentlessly reviewing his plans, believing his operations to be flawless—secretly building his forces, using the power of the Golden Court to breed insects and cultivate a number of Three Corpses Dead Warriors.
With official powers at his disposal, his influence had grown dozens of times stronger, and he even had as many as thirty expert Three Corpses warriors.
The peripheral forces of the Tai Yi Sect swelled wildly, with a Protectorate Army larger than any in history.
A single thought from him could have sparked a rebellion on the scale of the Yellow Turban uprising, or even matched the magnitude of Grandmaster Sun En.
