A sudden boom rang out, drawing nearer from afar as if it shook the mountains and wilderness.
"Neigh! Neigh!" The horses screamed without end, as though they had been terribly frightened, forcing the moving carriages to halt.
Had Jiang Lianshan and the others not possessed profound cultivation and been able to restrain the startled horses, the carriages would inevitably have lurched and swayed.
Yet even Jiang Lianshan and the others wore solemn expressions. The four from Mystic Blade Hall were especially terrified. The battle was clearly still far away, but merely sensing the ripples of its aftermath left the four of them horrified. It was absolutely not an enemy they could contend with.
"What smell is that? It stinks!"
As they sniffed the air, their brows furrowed. That faintly foul, fishy stench rushed straight to their heads, making them want to vomit.
Jiang Lianshan gazed toward the battle in the distant forest. One side carried filthy Corpse Qi, while the other bore fist intent. His expression grew grave.
"Someone from the Corpse Immortal Sect, and in the Ascension Realm. I wonder which Great Feng faction they are fighting?"
Jiang Lianshan and Liu Chengming merely watched as spectators. The people fighting were not theirs, and their Ascension Realm expert had yet to arrive—or rather, was not in Chen City.
"An Ascension Realm expert from the Corpse Immortal Sect, Ji Ping. Do you know who he is fighting?" Du Jingyu, in the carriage ahead, immediately became wary, his tone somewhat urgent.
They were almost home. He did not want anything to happen here.
Ji Ping lifted the curtain and looked out. After studying the scene for a moment, realization flashed through his eyes.
"Young Master, the Thousand Thunderclap Fist. That was the ultimate art of Ming Zili, the Night Watchers' Third Chief