The Final Sword

For thousands of years, the powerful figures of Dragon Valley had stood above the rest. As an elder of the law, he had looked down on all others. Yet faced with the faint, elusive attacks before him, he could only defend himself passively.

He even felt an indescribable fury.

This was the Dragon Tower. This was Dragon Valley. This was his territory.

And yet he was being repeatedly ambushed by a boy who wasn't even worth an ant.

Wang Xian knew that inside the Dragon Tower, he was nothing but an ant.

So all he could do was use an ant's strength to fight a covert and open battle against the all-powerful elder of the law.

As long as he could wound the dragon, he would have won half the battle.

The instant he returned to the fifth level, the elder of the law returned to the fourth.

The divine dragon appeared in a flash, and its terrifying breath sent countless waves surging across the lake.

The waves flew into the sky, transforming into fine sword marks.

A drop of water splashed onto the elder of the law's forehead, leaving behind an almost imperceptible wound.

The wound was like a vast hole suddenly appearing in an ant hill; in an instant, the riverbank crumbled.

Golden dragon blood gushed from the tiny wound like a river bursting through its banks, as though it would flood everything the next moment.

The elder of the law put away his dragon form and returned to his original appearance. His expression gradually grew grave.

He raised a hand and wiped at the wound on his forehead, but it remained.

He had no choice but to swallow a pill, then take out a wine gourd and drink deeply.

Then he lifted the gourd above his forehead