A flying vessel.
Ouyang Xianxing stared wide-eyed at Pei Ling, who stood alone beneath the distant sky. The Holy Son, once so familiar to her, now seemed towering beyond measure—one man, one blade, standing like a mountain between Heaven and Earth!
Behind her, more than a hundred disciples of the Jiansang lineage stood frozen, as if in a dream.
After a moment, someone finally stammered, "The H-Holy Son won?"
Ouyang Xianxing quickly came to her senses. Her voice rang out, firm and clear. "The Holy Son won!!!"
In the next instant, the Jiansang lineage disciples erupted into ecstatic cheers!
They had imagined the Holy Son losing and submitting to the dynasty. They had imagined him failing to overcome the Emperor, then using the Sacred Sect's trump card to escape. They had imagined the Grand Elder or an ancestor appearing at the critical moment to save him... But no one had guessed that the Holy Son would actually win!
And from start to finish, it had taken only three moves!
Yes, the Emperor of the Liulan Dynasty had indeed given the Holy Son ten moves. But the strong preyed on the weak, and the victor became king!
The Emperor could have given him a thousand moves, or ten thousand. It didn't matter. The one who had won was the Holy Son!
All the fear and uncertainty from moments ago had now become unbridled joy and heartfelt pride!
"As expected of the peerless Prodigy chosen through countless rounds of selection by our Sacred Sect! His cultivation and strength leave the False Dao in the dust!"
"Exactly! The Holy Son entered the Dao only recently, and he's a junior to the False Emperor, yet he knocked the False Emperor down into Lanjing with just three moves. The False Dao's fate is clearly at