“Long Chen! The Clear Cloud Gate will curse you from the Netherworld!”0

A loud roar of resentment rang out, but it was for naught. The sect was in ruins.0

The ground was covered in blood-colored petals, and millions more danced in the air. Every single one of them was soaked in blood, and the malice they radiated was almost palpable, surging into the heavens.2

Long Chen stood among the petals, completely indifferent to this heart-felt and indeed well-deserved curse. With his black robes and flowing black hair, he appeared like a devil god standing above the world. And just like an impassible deity, he felt neither joy nor sorrow at this horrendous sight.0

“After seventy-three sects and over a thousand Forerunners, you’ve finally finished sharpening up all your split bodies. Good job,” he said.7

One billion...1