Fang Mo's vision shifted, and he found himself outside the Yin Ruins once more. Behind him churned the Yin Ruins' rolling black clouds and violent blood-red lightning.
His brow furrowed deeply. The information Yao Huang had imparted to him at the end left him profoundly uneasy.
"A hundred years... only a hundred years left?"
"How am I supposed to do this? Can I really make it in a hundred years?"
Fang Mo could not help cursing inwardly. That evil demon truly knew how to seize an opportunity. It had actually used the chance to assault the seal, allowing those Primal Spirit Fragments whose evil power had not been purged to escape. Now, the Ancient Desolate Tribe could only devote all their strength to suppressing the seal.
He was supposed to deal with those escaped Primal Spirit Fragments? What a joke. Their sheer number made his scalp tingle.
Yet his hand unconsciously pressed against his Dantian. A blood-red blade floated silently within it. He had not been mistaken—it really was the Ancestral Dragon Blade. Yao Huang had actually passed the Ancestral Dragon Blade on to him.
Of course, this was not the one held by the Divine Corpse. If it had been that blade, its mere overwhelming aura would probably have shattered his fleshly body.
This was the False Ancestral Dragon Blade condensed by the Ancestral Dragon Blade.
Though it bore the word "false," it was still a formidable weapon. At present, he likely did not even possess the strength to wield it.
Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!
Just then, terrifying auras suddenly descended upon him.
Fang Mo's heart jolted. He saw one powerful figure after another appear, every one of them radiating a horrifying presence.
"What is this? Why are there so many experts?"
Fang Mo's heart leaped into his throat. Auras