"Is he really... just a Nascent Soul realm?"
Lu Xinglan stood atop the massive stone fortifications of the Spirit City, her breath hitching in her throat as she stared in absolute shock.
Her were fixed on the back of Shen Haoran, who was currently burning his way through the army of red-skinned barbarians like a war god descended from the Immortal Realm.
Every swing of his black blade and every pulse of his golden flame left a trail of cinders and bisected corpses.
Seeing him, he actually didn't move like a cultivator engaged in a struggle; he moved like a force of nature performing a necessary cleansing.
'Why?' She thought in deep, bitter dismay, her heart sinking with every display of his overwhelming power. 'Why is someone like him not the Crown Prince? Why does the blood of another clan produce such a genius, while the Imperial lineage gives us... this?"
She couldn't help the wave of revulsion that washed over her.
Instead of a leader, they had this coward.
