The light before Fang Mo's eyes shifted, and he found himself outside the Yin Ruins once more. Behind him rolled the Yin Ruins' dark clouds and raging crimson lightning.
His brow furrowed. The information Yao Huang had last imparted to him filled him with unease.
"A hundred years. There's only a hundred years left?"
"How am I supposed to do this? Can I even pull it off in a hundred years?"
Fang Mo cursed inwardly. These Evil beings had picked their moment well, taking advantage of the situation to strike at the seal. As a result, Primordial Spirit Fragments still tainted by evil power had escaped, and now the Ancient Tribes had no choice but to devote all their strength to suppressing the seal.
And he was supposed to deal with those escaped Primordial Spirit Fragments? What a joke. Just thinking about their numbers made his scalp tingle.
Still, his hand drifted to his Dantian. A crimson blade floated quietly within. He wasn't mistaken—it really was the Ancestral Dragon Blade. Yao Huang had actually passed it on to him.
Of course, it wasn't the blade wielded by the Divine Corpse. If it had been, its sheer might would probably have shattered his body.
This was a Pseudo-Ancestral Dragon Blade, condensed from the Ancestral Dragon Blade.
Even with "Pseudo" in its name, it was still a powerful weapon. He probably didn't have the strength to use it yet.
Hum! Hum! Hum!
Just then, a series of terrifying auras enveloped him.
Fang Mo's heart clenched. Powerful figures appeared before him, each radiating a terrifying aura.
"What is this? Why are there so many powerful people?"
Fang Mo's heart leapt into his throat. An aura that made him tremble surged from every one of them. They seemed like gods, their eyes fixed on