Zhang Yang was like a rat.
And not just any rat, but one with a devout heart devoted to seeking the Dao. He moved through the ruins with utmost caution. Sometimes he would remain motionless for several months; sometimes, years would pass before he shifted position.
Every Thousand-Handed Person he encountered, he treated as a heaven-sent opportunity. He regarded every change in their hand seals as a priceless treasure. Not only did he use the Four-Leaf True Spirit to record everything from every angle, but he also carefully deduced and earnestly comprehended them. His devout attitude almost made one wonder about the true purpose behind his arrival in the Fourth Sequence.
Just like that, a hundred years flashed by. The protection that came with Zhang Yang's Stellar Imprint finally cooled down. Without the slightest hesitation, he followed a region he had long since scouted and plunged headfirst into the divine restriction.
The divine restriction was formed from higher-level divine seals, while the foundation of divine seals was magical seals.
This was the Thousand-Handed Race's trump card—the source of their confidence as the local tyrant of this region. So how could the Thousand-Handed People possibly reveal their true trump card?
The magical seals they casually formed in their daily lives were all the most basic kind, used for training. Even if outsiders saw them, it would not matter.
Therefore, if Zhang Yang wanted to steal the divine seals, he could only venture deep into the world of the Thousand-Handed Race.
At that moment, after wasting only a minute inside the divine restriction, Zhang Yang summoned the Boat of Death without hesitation and teleported himself inside.
The instant he entered, He Yimou, Zhao Baiyi, Li Guokui, Tao Yao, Qu Shang, Jiang Rong, Wu County, and more than a dozen other core direct