Everyone's thoughts churned, and they were overcome with indescribable emotion, yet not one of them made a move to interfere. They all understood that there was no way they could stop Meng Zhao from devouring the dragon vein.
If they insisted on courting death and intervened, once Meng Zhao had a free hand, would he spare them?
If there had been even a one-in-ten chance of blazing a path to the heavens, they would have no regrets even in death. But clearly, even if they joined forces, they did not have a one-in-ten chance of stopping Meng Zhao. They could only wait in silence.
High in the sky, Meng Zhao employed a Dragon Swallowing Secret Art from the Myriad Heavens Imperial Dragon Ziwei Emperor Scripture, devouring bit by bit the boundless energy hidden within the dragon vein's dragon head and converting it into his own. His mind became clear, and the cosmos, heaven and earth, and the natural Great Dao all seemed contained within it.
In that soundless moment, every bottleneck in Meng Zhao's past cultivation suddenly opened before him. He had quietly broken through the threshold of Great Grandmaster, and his aura surged. His dragon body, already massive and majestic, immense as a mountain range, swelled several times larger still. Sprawled across the broad plaza of the Town Evil Golden Hall, it suddenly made the place seem somewhat cramped.
He truly possessed a measure of the splendor of a True Dragon soaring across the nine heavens in ancient times.
Having cultivated martial arts to this point, he had already broken into the power of a Great Grandmaster and climbed to the summit of martial arts in the present age. Looking across ancient and modern times, such figures were likely as rare as phoenix feathers and qilin horns—peerless in their