The Voice That Influenced Xuanqing

From ten thousand miles up, one could look down over the entire Canglan Continent.

In the northwest corner, Northwest Bay, the Witch Curse Sea.

That stretch of sea that had once been a vast expanse of blue waves, dotted with islands like stars on a chessboard, had now vanished.

In its place was a massive abyss whose bottom could not be seen at a glance.

The mouth of the pit spanned tens of thousands of miles, its edges steep as if cut by a blade, while black fog surged up from within, blotting out the sky and the sun.

At the border between the Wei and Song kingdoms, the Luoxia Mountain sinkhole was gone as well.

The whole of Northwest Bay around it had sunk, forming an enormous pitch-black basin.

Above the pitch-black basin hovered a gigantic Stone Gate.

The Stone Gate was a hundred zhang tall, entirely jet-black, its surface covered in ancient runes that gave off a faint, eerie black light.

Beyond the Stone Gate was a misty gray road, leading into endless darkness.

The Gate of the Netherworld.

The Gate of the Netherworld that had once been suppressed deep within the sinkhole now hung suspended in midair.

Netherworld Cultivators could cross realms at will. Around the Stone Gate, black fog churned, and countless Netherworld Cultivators poured out from within, a dark, crushing mass that blotted out the sky and the sun.

Above the Witch Curse Sea, the great battle between the Human Race and the Netherworld had already lasted a full day and night.

Over the sea, spiritual lights of every color intertwined with black Netherworld Power, and the sounds of explosions continued without end.

Mountain peaks were shaved flat, seawater was evaporated, and the earth was torn apart.

Battles between Spirit Transformation Cultivators were no longer