The long years had passed, and Shi Yongheng had lost count of how many times he had traveled the world.
Nearly a hundred years had gone by. During that time, his Taiji Xuanqing Dao cultivation had long since reached the sixth level of Shangqing, forming a primordial spirit, while he himself was now over one hundred and fifty years old.
He had even comprehended the Heavenly Sword realm of unity between man and sword, creating the Ten Thousand Swords Art.
Outside an ancient town thousands of li from Heyang City, Shi Yongheng was meditating beside a lake when he suddenly noticed cultivators flying through the sky one after another. Like a swarm of locusts passing through, dark clouds blanketed the heavens, carrying a grim aura as though the end of the world had descended.
The people of Heyang City stared up at the heavens with pale faces. Dark clouds churned overhead as countless figures rode bizarre magical treasures toward the Qingyun Mountain Range. From time to time, the figures wreathed in terrifying demonic aura let out savage, chilling laughter.
Ah! A scream rang out within Heyang City.
A young man holding a blood fork plunged it into a civilian's chest. In an instant, the civilian turned into a dried corpse.
A satisfied expression appeared on the sinister youth's face. His dark-red tongue licked the blood fork, and then he gave a wicked laugh, brandishing it as he charged into the crowd to slaughter them. In just a few breaths, he had killed more than ten people before turning into a streak of light and flying toward the Qingyun Mountain Range.
"Monster!"
"Run!"
Quite a few Demonic Cult disciples saw the unarmed civilians of Heyang City, who were as helpless as ants, and violent killing intent surged in their hearts. From