The brilliant divine pattern was like a flowing river that flowed along with Jian Wushuang's hair.
Old Master, who was like a clay sculpture, suddenly opened his eyes. After glancing at Jian Wushuang's back, he fell silent again.
After that, Feng Qi also woke up from her sleep after sensing the fluctuation of Jian Wushuang's aura.
"What is this guy doing... He's still not awake?" Feng Qi was puzzled. She looked around Jian Wushuang from a distance and then stopped.
As time passed, the divine pattern river around Jian Wushuang became purer, like a star that was shining with blue light.
His breath was longer and he would only slowly exhale once every hundred years.
And that layer of illusory shackles was also gradually weakening.
The number of cultivators that had gathered for the Offworld Battlefield had gradually stopped at five million.
