One slash of the sword—clean and decisive!
Li Tianming with the Eastern Emperor Sword in hand was the true Li Tianming!
His bearing fused perfectly with those golden-black twin swords, becoming one seamless whole. Man and sword alike exuded divine majesty—overbearing, razor-sharp, with momentum like a rainbow. This was the spirit of an emperor: sweeping across all directions, opening territories and expanding lands, with an air of none but himself being worthy!
Under his crushing dominance, Ye Chen, the "god of the system" who had once shone beneath a halo, was stomped straight into the mud. He fell directly from the heavens and became Li Tianming's backdrop.
For those onlookers who worshipped systems—especially those who had recently been fanatically praising the Primordial Chaos Clan—this was undoubtedly a resounding slap across the face, leaving every one of them dizzy and disoriented.
Dead silence was the most direct response to Li Tianming's performance, and the greatest possible praise.
Looking around, Li Tianming had already sheathed his sword, yet the hundreds of thousands around him still wore frozen expressions, unable to react.
As for the short-haired girl and the burly, green-haired, pockmarked man closest to the battlefield, they looked as though they had been drenched by a torrential storm. They stared numbly at Li Tianming, their minds buzzing, their thoughts utterly blank...
Within that blankness, Li Tianming's image had been deeply branded into them like an iron seal, impossible to erase.
The contempt in the short-haired woman's eyes toward that "white-haired sissy" had nearly been scraped away by blades and swords. In its place was now a shame so deep she wished she could disappear into the ground.
The same youth—fighting or not fighting—had an utterly heaven-and-earth difference in her eyes. It showed that battle and strength would forever be the only path