Beneath the valley, that fantastical, eerie scene—like a demonic hellscape—was merely an appetizer. What followed left the onlookers even more astounded.
The two qilin formed from the auspicious aura of mountains and rivers suddenly shot out countless rays of light amid the dance of demons and the surrounding fiends. They shredded once more the motley auras transformed from shattered weapons, obliterating every trace of demonic form and leaving behind only pure streams of differently colored energy.
At the same time, the Three-legged Cauldron began to emit a humming, buzzing sound like a swarm of bees and started to shake. Clang, clang—it was as though something inside was tossing about, desperately trying to crawl out.
Influenced by the Three-legged Cauldron, the various auras that had been scattered and shredded into formless intent suddenly surged toward it like weary birds returning to their nests after a violent boil.
The spectacle roiled like a great river pouring a thousand miles in a single rush, or a volcano erupting without end.
Under that vast momentum, an ink-black cloud actually condensed above the valley. Yet compared to ordinary storm clouds formed by nature, this cloud was far more terrifying and loathsome, as though it had gathered all the wicked, baleful energy between heaven and earth.
A single glance at it made one's heart race, one's stomach churn, and one's head feel as though it were splitting apart. Even the martial artists present, all experts of the Innate Realm, felt extreme discomfort.
Yet wicked as that black cloud was, it was still less wicked than the thing inside the Three-legged Cauldron. Like a giant whale drawing in water, a thin column of air connected the cloud to the cauldron. The cloud steadily shrank in size and shape, while the Three-legged Cauldron turned completely red as it