In the eyes of Tu Tianmo, his father stood as the preeminent leader among the thirty-six scattered Immortals, his cultivation reaching the heavens and delving deep into the earth, unfathomable. No matter what situation he faced, he was always confident, able to exterminate enemies with a wave of his hand.
Let alone being slain, Tu Tianmo had never even seen his father defeated.
But now, the Ghost God had not only been defeated but had suffered a crushing, utterly disastrous defeat. Without so much as scratching Zhou Bai's skin, he was killed with a single palm strike, a tragedy beyond words.
"Zhou Bai is too ruthless. How old is he... How many years has he been cultivating?!"
"My old man was actually killed with a single palm strike..."
"Even my father, an Immortal like that, is just a weakling in front of Zhou Bai, no different than me."
