In a sense, the Shang Yi before them possessed all the advantages that Wang Xuan once held: the unique internal landscapes, the keen intuition of the spirit, all further enriched by over six thousand years of cultivation. This was a hopeless situation.0

Wang Xuan stumbled, coughing up blood with every step, his body cracked and frail, each step marked by a bloody footprint. What more could he do? Even the Life Essence Furnace, his sacred artifact, had been flung away, and against this supreme adversary, he felt his spirit willing but his body weak.0

Caught in a predicament without precedent, he was devoid of any means to counterattack. If he could turn this around, he might even start to believe he'd made some pact with the goddess of fate.0

On the other side, the Sword Immortal's Purple Celestial Dao Sword was also knocked from her grasp, vibrating away through the cosmos. She could not overcome the barrier in her heart, unwilling to witness the fall of those she stood beside in sheer despair.0

Centuries ago, she had returned to her sect only to find it in ruins, the mountains fractured and the land littered with corpses. She couldn’t bear to see such a tragedy unfold once again.0

Her mouth foamed with blood, her injuries severe; how could she restrain herself?0

"You've won. If it's me you want, then let her go. Take whatever you wish," Wang Xuan conceded. If it were just him, he would have fought...0