Who is willing to descend to the mortal realm to assist the Giant Spirit God?

With that one blow, his five viscera had been knocked out of place, and a metallic sweetness surged up his throat—

"...Impressive! Damn impressive!"

As the Heavenly Court's vanguard general, he had slain flood dragons, cleaved Ghost Kings, and suppressed the Yin Marshals of the Nine Netherworlds. No one knew how many bones of demons and evil spirits from the Three Realms had shattered beneath his axes.

But someone like Wang Jian, whose single slash carried the breath of death—he had never encountered one before!

In that instant just now, he had truly smelled the scent of his soul scattering and spirit dispersing—

Half an inch closer, and he really would have met his end here.

He gulped down great breaths and raised his eyes—

Wang Jian still sat firmly astride his horse, his breath deep and unbroken like an ancient well, his expression tranquil as a bottomless pool.

The long blade in his hand pointed diagonally toward the sky. Beneath the daylight, its edge gleamed with a cold blue-white sheen, as though that world-destroying strike from moments ago had never come from his hand at all.

This sight also startled the many watchers above the sea of clouds.

Nezha stood upon the clouds, his fingers unconsciously tightening around the Fire-Tipped Spear.

He froze for a moment, and a flicker of incredulous shock rose in his eyes.

The Human Race had produced another fierce general like this?

Less than a thousand years had passed since the Investiture of the gods—those renowned generals of old had long since become stars of the heavenly firmament, hanging high above the sky.

And now, within the Human Race's territory, another young man had emerged who could force the Heavenly Court's vanguard to the very brink of life and death!

No wonder the Human Race