People left the Plaza of Holy Light, leaving the vast hall empty.

Expressionless, Xu Yangyi sat on a pew and stared at the arched ceiling.

In front of him, a cup of scarlet wine was spreading on the floor, like the carpet was a cuticle and someone had stabbed down with a blade. Unexpectedly, a single cup of wine had reached a distance of ten-odd meters all around. In the end, it formed the design of a giant, remarkably detailed blood-red bat in front of him.

A nigh solid killing intent was radiating from the bat without the slightest concealment.

Xu Yangyi stood quietly with the vampire crest for an unknown length of time. The crook of his mouth suddenly perked up.

“An actual False Core expert, one of the America’s absolute peak battle powers, an invitation from a death god. But…” he laughed, “why don’t I even feel a little regret?”

In his eyes, Chu Zhaonan, the Zhao Clan, the Xingtian Legion, and the Hidden Dragon Legion streaked through.

These people had followed him through Nanzhou’s bloody war. In the end, no one worried about their fates. And while he’d been whisked away by Xiaoqing, what about everyone else?

Had that Mao Ba’er already been arrested?...