Dao-Heaven faced off haughtily against the Paragon magics of Meng Hao and the others. Suddenly, he took a breath, and his energy surged as he stretched his right hand up and waved it around.
"As for my Paragon magic, I have come to call it... Paragon Painting!" Even as the words left his mouth, the air in front of Dao-Heaven distorted and was ripped apart as a scroll painting flew out.
The scroll painting was pitch black and emanated a boundlessly ancient feeling. It seemed like something that had existed for countless years, and before it even opened, it emanated an incredible, murderous aura.
The power of that aura instantly caused bizarre colors to flash everywhere, and the wind to churn. It was impossible to even describe the level of power; this type of murderous aura was something that Meng Hao hadn't encountered in his entire life.
