Yan Chongzhang also seemed to sense that something was amiss.
His movements became even more astonishing.
In the sky, from the second city of Chi Ming, emanated purple qi. His arms were covered with a layer of silver dragon scale armor that extended over his fingers as he forcefully thrust his palms into the ancient wood.
In front of that immense, sunlight-blocking black tree, his figure seemed as minuscule as an ant.
But in the moment his arms trembled, the swath of black was slowly torn apart, emitting a crackling roar.
"That's really quite outrageous."
Bai Wu's eyelids twitched, perhaps due to the Southern Hong Seven Sons' enduring forbearance, which led the sect to true poverty, still dependent on vassal tributes, utterly incapable of affording the Heaven and Earth Treasures required by their Dharma in the past.
These Daozi could only strive for further progress during their time in the Immortal City and with Dao Soldiers.
