Seeing Chu Zhaoyang grow stronger as he faced stronger opponents, Lu Xiaotian secretly nodded. The man was somewhat arrogant by nature, but he had all the qualities a powerful cultivator needed: talent, combat instincts, and a love of battle. Chu Zhaoyang seemed to possess them all.
But no matter how formidable Chu Zhaoyang was, Lu Xiaotian had no intention of going easy on him—not with ten million low-grade immortal crystals on the line.
The other man struck out palm after palm. The ten golden suns behind him blazed so brightly they were almost impossible to look at. Lu Xiaotian refused to yield and sent out palm strikes of his own, each one releasing a Buddhist swastika seal. The seals looked like green lamps casting their light over all, blue waves rippling across the sea, and stone steps winding up a green cliff toward the heavens.
Chu Zhaoyang gave a sharp shout, his figure flickering violently along with the golden suns. His artistic conception spread out; beneath those suns, he seemed to teleport, each flicker carrying him hundreds of miles. Countless figures within the golden light nearly engulfed Lu Xiaotian.
Each figure seemed to link up beneath the golden suns, forming a vast formation. Chu Zhaoyang held nothing back. The space within the formation seemed to twist under the scorching suns, rippling like water.
In truth, the opponent's formidable golden suns had indeed taken on the aspect of a cave-heaven. But what appeared before them was merely a fluctuation caused by Chu Zhaoyang's divine art—not actual spatial distortion. Even so, it exerted powerful suppression over an ordinary Black Immortal's techniques. If Lu Xiaotian had relied on his profound strength alone, without comprehending the power of space, he truly would have had no way to break the move. After all, his artistic