The Demon Suppression Great Daoist raised his sword once again.
His tall figure stood beneath the blood red heavens, his white hair fluttering in the wind as his tattered robes swayed around him.
His body was already approaching its limits.
His life essence was almost entirely depleted, his Nascent Soul had become exceedingly dim, and the principles of the Dao he had spent hundreds of thousands of years comprehending were on the verge of complete disintegration.
Yet, he continued to stand tall in the sky.
Countless gazes were fixed upon that solitary figure.
Among them were the surviving cultivators of the Lower Realm, the ancient powerhouses who had once stood at the summit of their respective eras, and the younger generation who had only recently begun their journeys towards immortality.
Most of those gazes were blank, but some of them contained complex emotions indescribable in words.
Tian Yun watched in silence.
