Ye Lingfeng had gone mad, but Tianming understood him. He had seen the dying struggle of the Infernal Soul Race that spanned twenty thousand years, as well as the amalgamation of the blood and tears of eighty thousand souls. Killing any Theocrat would make his blood boil.

"Brother, there’s another one." Tianming's cold gaze locked on to Dongyang Zizhen, who was entangled in battle with Ying Huo.

Ye Lingfeng didn’t need a reminder. He swept across the water and two figures quickly drew closer to Dongyang Zizhen.

"Feng's strength lies in the suppressive power of his soul, while mine is the ability to finish. When we work together, we have a certain synergy."

Dongyang Yunyi had perished too quickly. Since Dongyang Zizhen’s line of sight was obscured by the water, he wasn’t aware of his brother’s demise. All he heard was the miserable cries of the two Golden Hellthunder Hydras.

"What happened?" With the Allspike Skywheel in his hand, Dongyang Zizhen executed the Cyclic Sutra.

This sky saint battle art was a balance between...