"SHEN HAORAN!"
The thunderous vibration of that detested name lingered like venom in the blackened basin.
The air above the ruined White Dragon Sect hissed, its spatial fabric torn by the sheer, unbridled fury radiating from Chen Feng's newly forged Saint physique.
His fists were clenched so tightly that droplets of blood dripped from his palms, sizzling like burning hot embers as they struck the pulverized stone beneath his boots.
Every nerve in his body screamed for immediate, bloody vengeance.
He wanted to tear through the clouds, rip apart the imperial canopy of the upper heavens, and drag Shen Haoran down into the dirt by his throat.
But he knew he couldn't do that yet. He still need to find his wives and parents.
He closed his eyes, forcing the raging, tempestuous river of Saint-qi back into his dantian.
The crimson haze in his vision gradually receded, replaced by a cold, calculating stillness.
