"Fellow Daoist Jiang, I was wrong. Truly wrong. Please, show mercy and forgive me."
"From now on, everything under Xuanbing Palace's command will be up to you, Fellow Daoist Jiang. I absolutely won't interfere. What do you say?"
Wuji Ming Zun didn't think he was truly in the wrong. He just thought he was about to die.
He had attained the Dao many years ago, and had never imagined anyone could be so ferocious—smashing his body outright, binding his True Spirit, and leaving him no chance to escape.
Such methods were simply too domineering.
Within Xie Zhi, blazing flames raged, carrying an unusual, peculiar power. Even Wuji Ming Zun's sturdy origin seemed to be melting under the flames' relentless roasting.
Not only that, strands of red thread extended from the flames and pierced him through. A terrifying power surged in with them, gradually staining his Original True Spirit.
It was this change that filled Wuji Ming Zun with overwhelming fear. His instincts told him:
Once his True Spirit changed color, he would completely lose himself and become the other party's puppet.
By then, he would no longer be able to control his own fate. Jiang Yan would only need to move a thought, and he would be reduced to ashes.
There was great terror between life and death. Wuji Ming Zun was afraid now, and once again yielded to Jiang Yan.
He had no choice. This man was ruthless enough to disregard the Feather Transformation Sect entirely. His origins and trump cards were nothing but a joke in front of him.
"You're stupid, and you still won't admit it? You've been a Dao Lord for so many years. Don't you know what it means to pull up the grass and root out the weeds?"
"Since there's already a rift between