Above the blood cloud, all was deathly silent.
Ling Yu stared at the puddle of black-red blood on the altar, her eyes wide and her red lips slightly parted.
Zhao Lingxiu.
This Devil Lord, who had single-handedly toppled Southern Qi and sacrificed millions of lives, had hung like a butcher's blade above everyone's heads for ten years.
And just like that... she was gone?
The sinister power of that monstrous form had nearly suffocated the entire Imperial Capital.
Yet against Lin Sheng, she could not withstand even a single finger.
Tang Chong's Adam's apple bobbed. For a long while, he could not get a word out.
Thirty years ago, he had known Lin Sheng was a heaven-blessed genius. Never could he have imagined that, when they met again thirty years later, Lin Sheng would have reached such heights, becoming a figure almost like a true god in the heavens.
One finger.
Just that one finger.
The Yan Emperor, who had rampaged unchallenged across the world, had been reduced to dust.
The surviving Southern Qi followers around them stared at that black-clad back, their eyes filled with nothing but awe.
On the other side of the blood cloud, Little Black crouched atop Naka's head, clutching half a cream puff in its paws, its cheeks bulging.
It glanced at the wreckage below, curled its lip, and muttered indistinctly.
"What a joke. I thought she'd last a couple of moves, but she didn't even make a sound. Had I known, I'd have handled it myself. This king would've made it ten times more spectacular."
Naka stood to one side with a faint smile and said nothing. His gaze lifted slightly toward the Black Sun overhead, and a flicker of fire flashed deep within his eyes.
Lin Sheng still stood above the Imperial Capital,