Immortal Weng of the South Pole's terrifying Quasi-Saint pressure swept across the entire Golden Ao Island gate like an invisible storm.
Space warped slightly beneath that force. Countless independent cultivators waiting in line felt stabbing pain in their primordial spirits, as though they would be utterly crushed the next moment, and they retreated in terror.
Yet Chen Changsheng, standing at the heart of the storm, did not even have the corner of his robes stirred.
The professional smile on his face did not change in the slightest.
"Senior Brother, what do you mean by this?"
"Are you dissatisfied because our Project Office's Process is not open and transparent enough?"
He asked calmly, each word like an invisible needle precisely piercing Immortal Weng of the South Pole's fury before it could erupt.
"You!"
Immortal Weng of the South Pole's chest heaved violently, immortal light boiling around him. The Dragon-Headed Staff gave off bursts of dragon roars, as though it could shatter heaven and earth at any moment.
But in the end, he did not strike.
Because he saw that behind Chen Changsheng, Daoist Duobao, Zhao Gongming, and the others had silently begun circulating their mana.
Farther away, the auras of the Nine Bends Yellow River Formation and the Myriad Immortals Formation had also begun to faintly connect with them.
To act here was to make an enemy of the entire Interception Sect.
Most crucially, the other side had not uttered a single provocative word from beginning to end.
Every sentence was about "Process," every word about "rules."
If he struck first, he would lose the moral high ground and all justification, while utterly disgracing the Chan Sect before these hundreds of millions of independent cultivators!
"Fine."
"Fine Process indeed!"
Immortal Weng of the South Pole forcibly suppressed his surging blood and