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Zhao Yuanjiao's army of Taiqing disciples reached Bingxian. The Immortal city's gates were tightly shut and its defensive formations activated; it was ready for a siege.
Zhao Yuanjiao suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Li Qianjun!"
Above the city walls, Li Qianjun appeared bearing the Taiqing burial pagoda.
"Zhao Yuanjiao, you're nothing but a whelp. Do you really think you can take me on?"
Li Qianjun's voice was loud and bright. It echoed like thunder and bore the intensity of lightning. A wave of pressure emanated from him, causing Zhao Yuanjiao's army to quail.
"Li Qianjun, do you hear that? Someone's calling your name," Zhao Yuanjiao retorted.
"Oh? Who?" Li Qianjun smirked.
"The Taiqing elders and ancestors you killed—your senior brothers, uncles, masters, nephews. All of them are hovering around you, seeking vengeance for their lives!" Zhao Yuanjiao roared.
"Li Qianjun, return my life to me!" the Taiqing army roared.
Li Qianjun visibly shuddered. A wave of cold...
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