The Fat Man's Hands Were Weak, but His Heart Was True!

Hua Qiang concentrated on discerning the subtle differences in the energy fluctuations around him, his brow deeply furrowed.

He spread his palm, and a bronze-colored compass appeared in his hand.

His fingertips brushed over the compass as its bronze needle trembled wildly within the Chaos Aura.

When the needle stopped, pointing toward faint ripples hidden within a patch of empty space, he decisively smashed through the spatial barrier with one punch. A pitch-black rift appeared before him.

The instant Hua Qiang stepped into the rift, bone-piercing cold flooded backward through his meridians, as though countless Vengeful Spirits were tearing at his soul.

Before the thunderous roar of the torn void had faded, Hua Qiang was blasted three steps back by a scorching wave of air.

A foul wind carrying scraps of flesh slapped against his face. He raised a hand to wipe away the blood before his eyes, and his pupils abruptly constricted—the Medicine King Valley below, stretching for hundreds of miles, had become an Asura purgatory.

The valley that had once been wreathed in immortal mist had been dyed crimson. Towering ancient trees had been cut cleanly in half, and half-ruined celestial soldiers' armor still hung from the broken trunks, gold-threaded cloud patterns faintly visible through the bloodstains.

High in the heavens, a golden-armored Immortal Emperor held a gilded Thunder Drum Hammer. Violet lightning snaked along its handle, splitting the clouds in two.

The celestial soldiers under his command had formed the Big Dipper Battle Formation, their silver armor glinting coldly in the firelight,

Every sweep of their halberds raised great clouds of bloody mist.

Facing them was the otherworldly army Hua Qiang had summoned.

Netherworld Black Fire burned from the six wings behind the Asura King, and every lash of the bone whip in his hand tore open