The female Holy King in a qilin ritual robe said, "A weapon spirit is ultimately a weapon spirit. Without its wielder's control, no matter how heaven-reaching and earth-piercing your abilities are, you must remain imprisoned within the mystic weapon."
"We saw through your weakness long ago. If you dared not come forward, then we would force you to come forward!"
"It's over, it's over."
Luo Manping forcibly summoned his Dharma Aspect and pushed out a palm strike, wanting to save Luo Tianfeng.
But that man had originally been one of the Old Heavenly King's right-hand men, a powerful cultivator worthy of being called a Holy King.
That slash was swift and ruthless, leaving no opportunity at all.
Especially after the other party had silently approached the sect leader's side.
Not only could Luo Manping not save him, even Tu Shan Jun could not have saved him without being held back.
Clang.
Metal struck metal.
The scattering sparks were like sun and moon falling, like boundless rosy clouds flooding the dusk sky—so brilliant one could drown in them, yet so dazzling no one dared look directly at them.
It seemed that anyone who dared gaze at those sparks would have their eyes pierced by holy aura and gouged out by divine radiance, stripped of all color and splendor.
Luo Tianya stared fixedly at the blade that had blocked him.
It was a divine weapon.
The entire great sect possessed only five divine weapons.
The northern and southern branches each had one, the sect leader held one, the council of clan elders possessed one, and the ancestor held one as well. Naturally, the divine weapons in their hands could not compare with the ancestor's.
People had differences in cultivation; weapons had differences in strength.
Yet even the weakest divine weapon was not