Certain Death

A strategist from one of the Four Great Empires gently waved the feather fan in his hand, his tone certain and his expression brimming with confidence.

His gaze was deep and crafty. "This carefully planned strike of ours has gathered everyone's strength. Its power is enough to destroy heaven and earth."

"He's only a Two-Ring Great Spirit Master. How could he possibly withstand it?"

"Kill Tang Lan, and our mission this time will be complete."

The Holy Spirit Cult's leader had a gaze as dark as still water, his voice as cold as frost, like a chill wind blowing from the depths of hell.

"Once we return, the Cult Master will surely reward us richly. Glory, wealth, and supreme power will all be ours."

"Hmph, no matter how formidable this brat is, he can't stand against all of us working together."

A Soul Douluo from the Four Great Empires snorted coldly, folding his arms across his chest with arrogance and conceit written all over his face.

"He's merely making a futile struggle."

"That's right. Death is coming for him. No one can save him."

Another Holy Spirit Cult member spoke viciously, cruel light flickering in his eyes. "Today will be his end."

"This time, we'll make him pay for everything he's done."

A Soul Saint from the Four Great Empires clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the force.

"We'll let him know the consequences of opposing us."

Everyone spoke over one another, their voices filled with confidence and killing intent.

It was as if Tang Lan were already a fish on their chopping block, at their mercy to slaughter.

Tang Ya bit down hard on her lower lip. Her delicate lips had gone bloodless from the excessive force, pale as paper.

Her beautiful eyes were full of deep