In the void, a pitch-black crack silently closed.
Shen Fan emerged from it, his expression calm and his aura reined in to the utmost.
He glanced back toward the Third Army's camp. Though separated by endless space, he could still sense the fury and destructive aura surging into the sky.
Yan Si.
The commander of the Red Demon Legion must have been absolutely furious by now, right?
The corner of Shen Fan's mouth curved in the faintest smile.
Half the treasury was enough.
A person shouldn't be too greedy, or he might end up biting off more than he could chew.
He picked out a direction and prepared to leave this trouble behind for good.
But just as he was about to tear through space again, he paused.
From the depths of the void far ahead came waves of chaotic, surging Saint energy.
Saint Ancestors were fighting!
And there were more than two of them.
Shen Fan raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity stirring.
He'd just pulled off a major score, and his mood was good. He didn't mind stopping to watch the show.
With a thought, his body and aura merged completely with the surrounding darkness of the void, not a trace escaping.
Like a ghost, he silently crept toward the battlefield.
Tens of thousands of miles from Shen Fan, in a region of turbulent void.
Vast Water-element Saint energy raged and surged through the area.
One enormous meteorite after another quietly crumbled into dust amid the shockwaves of Saint energy.
At the center of the battlefield, an old man in a sky-blue robe was surrounded by four people.
His hair and beard were white as snow, and his face was aged, but his eyes shone with startling brilliance.
A mighty phantom of the Heavenly River circled him,