The Might of This Sword, Terrifying to the Human Heart!

Haotian was nothing more than a chess piece.

What Hongjun had truly plotted was the continual creation of opportunities for the Human Race to lose its virtue, collapse, and fall into corruption.

As for restoring Haotian to the position of Heavenly Emperor?

That thought had never once crossed Hongjun's mind.

What he hated most was being coerced.

That boy servant who had once stood before his seat, holding the fly whisk, now dared dream of swaying his will with a few bluffing bargaining chips—what a fool's dream!

At that thought, a cold sneer surfaced on Hongjun's face.

He, Hongjun, had never been controlled by anyone;

nor could anyone ever force him to submit by any means.

If he wanted something, he could take it whenever he pleased;

if he did not wish to give it, then even if you exhausted everything you had, you could forget about touching so much as a fraction of it—unless you had the life to take it!

With a cold snort, he lightly raised the fly whisk in his hand.

In an instant, the frenzied aura within Haotian surged once more, and his pressure swelled nearly tenfold!

Xuanyuan and Zhuanxu had already been pushed to their limits. Though they fought with all their strength to hold on, their resistance crumbled step by step.

It was not that they were weak, but that Haotian's power was simply too tyrannical, crushing down upon them layer by layer until even breathing became difficult.

The scales of victory were rapidly tipping toward Haotian's side.

Ying Zheng and the others could only stand where they were, burning with anxiety yet utterly helpless.

Rush forward to support Xuanyuan and Zhuanxu?

Even offering them the slightest bit of aid was nothing but a castle in the air, fishing for the moon in