The Crisis of Yang Jian's Demise

"Cough, cough..."

In the deep pit, Yang Jian braced himself against his giant axe and shakily rose to his feet once more.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and raised his head. The fighting spirit in his bloodshot eyes had not diminished in the slightest; instead, it burned even more fiercely.

"Come again!"

Those two simple words contained a supreme will that would sooner die than yield.

This scene moved every Great Expert watching from within and beyond the battlefield.

Shouyang Mountain, Eight Sceneries Palace.

Xuandu watched the scene in the water mirror, his brows tightly furrowed.

"Master, do you think Saint Qin Mu will intervene?"

Lord Taishang, seated high upon his cloud bed, had his eyes slightly closed. An aura of effortless naturalness flowed around him, as though he were utterly indifferent to everything outside.

He did not answer Xuandu's question, yet his heart was clear as a mirror.

Qin Mu... with his temperament, how could he possibly watch his own disciple be bullied like this? This show had only just begun.

Kunlun Mountain, Yuxu Palace.

Venerable Yuanshi coldly watched Peach Mountain, a hint of pleasure deep in his eyes.

"You fool who knows neither life nor death. I'll use Haotian's hand to uproot you, this malignant root of the Sect of Interception, once and for all!"

Western Paradise.

Daoist Jieyin wore a sorrowful expression, while Daoist Zhunti held the Seven Treasures Wonderful Tree. The two were likewise watching this great battle.

"Senior Brother, this Yang Jian possesses extraordinary innate talent and an even more unyielding will. If we can convert him to our Western Paradise, he will surely become a great Dharma Protector." A sharp gleam flashed in Zhunti's eyes.

Human Race Holy Land.

A figure clad in imperial robes,