The Might of the Seventh Turn

High above, two figures faced each other from a thousand zhang apart.

The auras released by Consecrated Elder Duan and Ao Xing split the sky in two.

One half was a deep, heavy gray Martial Will, like mountains unchanged since time immemorial;

The other was a dazzling, blazing golden dragon's might, like a Burning Sun.

The two forces collided fiercely in the heavens, tearing the clouds in half and revealing the azure sky beneath, as though an invisible pair of giant hands had ripped the canopy of heaven apart down the middle.

Ao Xing narrowed his golden vertical pupils slightly as he watched the gray-clad figure opposite him, a trace of gravity rising in his heart for the first time.

When the Dragon Race had received word that Great Zhou would send out Consecrated Elder Duan, they had already investigated his background.

They had thought this old consecrated elder, who had lived in seclusion within the imperial palace for years, was merely a cultivator who had broken through to the Seventh Turn not long ago. Even if he had some foundation, it would be limited.

Yet now, when Consecrated Elder Duan unleashed his full aura, Ao Xing realized that he had judged wrongly.

The other man's aura was dense and profound. He had already traveled a considerable distance within the Seventh Turn, and was not the slightest bit weaker than Ao Xing.

This battle was far from decided.

Ao Xing hesitated no longer and struck first.

He abruptly opened his dragon jaws. An incomparably terrifying Demonic Qi gathered in his throat, and in the next instant, an enormous torrent of flame burst forth.

The flames were not the usual crimson, but an unusual white-hot blaze edged with gold. Their temperature was horrifyingly high, dyeing half the sky fiery red.

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