These scenes shook all of Wanggu, causing the terror in the hearts of the myriad races to skyrocket instantly.
The Empress was bitter, the Moon Offering Region fell into silence, Feng Hai became deathly still, and despair spread through the souls of all races in Wanggu.
Even Zhou Zhengli and the others, at this moment, strained to elevate their Ordinances to resist the pressure.
However, the expressions they wore were not of fear, but of solemn killing intent.
All of them fixed their gazes unblinkingly on the blood-red sky, where the Ancient Immortal had fully descended!
It was an old man!
His sparse white hair barely covered his bluish-white scalp, and his tattered Daoist robe—seemingly worn for tens of thousands of years—had long lost its original color.
His face resembled crumpled and sun-dried tree bark, repeatedly weathered by time.
His entire being exuded an aura of decay and venom, like a living corpse clawing its way out of the cracks of the Yellow Springs.
