Watching Myriad Saint Ancestor flee, the Netherworld Palace Lord's expression had long since turned so grim it could drip water.
He had already been unable to gain the upper hand against Mandala. Her overwhelming Mandala Flowers clung to him like maggots to bone—impossible to kill completely and leaving him constrained at every turn.
Now that She Wuyou was dead and Myriad Saint Ancestor had fled first, if he remained here, would he not have to face Mandala, Long Zhantian, and that black-clad young man capable of killing an Earth Sovereign all by himself?
How could the Netherworld Palace Lord walk willingly into such a certain death trap?
So he made his decision at once. Clapping his palms together, the Netherworld Ghost Shadow exploded with a bang, turning into black mist that wrapped tightly around him.
Mandala's countless Mandala Flowers plunged into the black mist, but only shredded layer after layer of empty shells. The Netherworld Palace Lord's true body had already retreated to who knew where.
Then, from far away, only the Netherworld Palace Lord's cold and unwilling voice rang out. "Good. Very good. I will remember what happened today."
As his voice fell, the cold aura between heaven and earth receded completely like a tide.
With She Wuyou dead and Myriad Saint Ancestor and the Netherworld Palace Lord fleeing one after another, the previously taut atmosphere above this murky yellow ocean rapidly deflated like a punctured balloon.
The remaining elders and elite disciples of the Snake God Hall no longer retained even a trace of their earlier arrogance. Their faces were pale as paper as they fled frantically in every direction like homeless dogs.
Several of them, in their desperation, directly unleashed their Supreme Dharma Bodies, transforming into enormous serpents tens of thousands of feet long and fleeing through