An Age of Chaos Amid Flying Flames of War

Although Ye Xiwen's attainments in space were far from comparable to that black-robed man's, he had still stepped into the Half-Step Transcendent Realm. Snuffing out a scroll's resistance was more than within his power.

Now that it had fallen into Ye Xiwen's hands, did they still expect him to hand it over? That was simply impossible.

Ye Xiwen spread open the scroll and saw ancient, unadorned patterns covering its surface. Who knew what era they came from? They exuded an unfathomable aura. If Ye Mo had been here, perhaps he could have discerned a few clues. But if it was Ye Xiwen alone, he fell far short. His strength might have been sufficient, but in terms of experience and knowledge, the gap was far too great.

"No matter who you are, from this day onward, you and our Southern Dipper shall be locked in a struggle unto death!" Suddenly, a razor-sharp sword of mental force shot out from the scroll and stabbed straight into Ye Xiwen's mind, seeking to tear open his Sea of consciousness in one stroke.

That mental sword charged forward like bamboo splitting under a blade, effortlessly breaking through every defense around Ye Xiwen. They were as fragile as paper.

Within his Sea of consciousness, Ye Xiwen's image appeared. He hurriedly mobilized endless divinity, forming layer upon layer of defenses and shield after shield.

Only after smashing through several hundred walls formed of divinity did the mental sword finally vanish without a trace. Ye Xiwen broke out in a cold sweat and sucked in a breath of cold air. How could he not understand? That mental sword was very likely merely a wisp of a Transcendent Realm expert's Primordial Spirit. Attaching one's Primordial Spirit to a magical artifact was an extremely common practice.

Ye Xiwen even suspected