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On the long street, Lin Xun walked leisurely, yet within his chest murderous intent churned and fermented, on the verge of erupting. He could hardly restrain it any longer.
Behind him, the crowd of cultivators grew larger and larger. Some wore expressions twisted with killing intent, clearly ready to strike at any moment. The once bustling street had fallen into a suffocating silence. Pedestrians vanished, shops closed one after another, shutters slamming shut as though the city itself sensed the storm about to break.
Boom!
A towering figure split the air and crashed down like a streak of golden light, blocking Lin Xun’s path. The man wore purple robes, his body wreathed in the terrifying majesty of a supreme Emperor Ancestor.
“Are you the one surnamed Lin?” His eyes gleamed with undisguised murderous intent. “Remember this…I am from the Great Martial Epoch…”
Before he could finish his words, a palm descended. Simple. Direct. Overwhelming.
The very next moment, the thrill in the purple-robed man’s expressions stiffened into shock as his nose bridge and lips caved in, bearing the unmistakable mark of a palm. Then,...
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