"Trying to retreat, huh?" Yan Tingfeng looked up, noticing the thousands of warships changing direction, and smiled, "In this world, there's no such fortunate thing."
He had waited for them long enough, his hatred turning him into a lunatic.
If he didn't kill these people cleanly, how could he face the millions of dead bones in Shenzhou?
Although he had slept for three hundred years, the facts proved—
Treachery remains treachery, and this world still belongs to Shenzhou.
Yan Tingfeng spoke: "Beiming is boundless, with dark ice as its border."
"Buzz——!"
Space suddenly froze!
Yan Tingfeng continued: "Nine Netherworld turns into my wall!"
It was as if some invisible barrier rose around the four corners of the Shenzhou Land Continent, forcibly blocking these warships' retreat.
"Prison of all spirits, the flow of rivers ceases." Yan Tingfeng's voice was calm, "Eight directions are not the eight directions, and ten directions are buried!"
