There was a thousand-foot-wide platform at the top of the mountain. The ground was solid and flat as if it had been smoothed by an almighty force. An ancient aura seeped out from the ground, a sign that it had been branded with mysterious dao traces.

At the center of the platform was a gray altar.

A fierce battle had broken out again. Xiao Ran and the rest of the Spirit Treasure Holy Land Successors were facing off against a group of equally powerful cultivators.

Light rose like vapor as treasures collided, displaying the extreme intensity of the battle.

Zheng! Zheng! Zheng! 

Dressed in water-blue clothes, Xiao Ran sat with his black hair fluttering around him as he played the zither. The sounds warped into a mighty army that was filled with vigor and passion.

One could clearly see the soundwaves take on the forms of blades, spears, swords, halberds, axes, and other shapes. Each weapon seemingly had a mind of its own and beat with a flowing dao rhythm.

These extremely unpredictable and terrifyingly powerful attacks contained more than half of the opposing forces!

In other words, Xiao Ran alone was suppressing more...