At that moment, Feng Yun clearly sensed the feeling within him.
He held the world in his palm and commanded the winds and clouds.
Billions upon billions of living beings were but a thought away. If he wanted them to live, they lived; if he wanted them to die, they died!
They were like ants, free for him to toy with however he pleased.
That feeling was utterly intoxicating.
Feng Yun thought absently, Do those lofty gods feel the same way when they look down upon our Sole True Sect and the Guardians?
Or... are they even more numb to such a feeling?
To them, is there not even any pleasure in it?
After a brief flight of fancy, Feng Yun's gaze regained its cold sharpness.
My level is still far from enough!
Downstairs in the bedroom, Chen Xue rose on tiptoe, draped a robe over herself, and silently began simmering a small pot of porridge made from spirit materials for her husband. A steady low flame burned beneath it. She watched intently, a blissful smile curling her lips.
In the night sky.
Fang Che was like a drifting meteor borne on the wind, without form or shadow. After several flashes, he had already crossed five hundred miles of space.
He sensed the countless clusters of martial artists hidden in every dark corner.
It had to be said that every one of these fellows was astonishingly skilled at concealment. If not for the Golden Horned Flood Dragon reporting their presence at all times, there were many Fang Che would never have detected.
Some had even merged with tree trunks until they were completely identical, breathing through the trees themselves and assimilating their lives with them—Fang Che was seeing such a technique for the first time.
He could not help clicking