The rivers-and-mountains painting breaking apart left the whole sky like dusk, with a faint air of evening about it.

That tall figure stood straight where he was.

The ruined black armor on him scattered away like blown sand, and the Guixu Immortal Armor had long since gone back to the formation at his heart; only the slightly lifting ink robe was left.

Shen Yi lowered his eyes to his empty palm. He had not felt the warmth of Pan Boyang's blood there, and it left him feeling somehow that the thing was not quite settled.

A moment later he drew his gaze back and closed his hand carelessly.

That gold-veined black saber shot out of the ancient tree with a hiss, turned into a streak of edged light, and went reaping the lives of the several Dark Pythons that were left!

Squelch! Squelch!

In front of a black saber that could smash the Jade-Fire Azure Lotus Sword and disregard the Heaven-Origin Phantom-Thunder Ruler, those gravely wounded python demons had very little room left to resist; head and body parted before they felt a thing.

The smell of blood already thick between heaven and earth grew thicker again.

And it brought everyone there back to himself by degrees.

The Mountain-Moving Sect's many personally transmitted disciples and elders, with Yang Yunheng at their head, suddenly felt a grim chill down the middle of the back.

Earlier, inside the sect, their eyes had been on the several Dao-sons from beginning to end, and they had overlooked this ink-robed young man without thinking about it.

Only now did they see it plainly: with no Dao-merging colossus stepping in, who exactly had let whom off that day?

For leaving everyone else aside, the Heaven-Sword Dao-son alone was no less than their own Dao-son Yan.

And with Dao-son Yan unable to be in two places at once—

even if they had all joined hands, how much better would their situation have been than that of these Dark Pythons?

All the more so when Wei Yuanzhou and Bai Wu were Nanhong Dao-sons in the same way. Could…