"Yes."
Xuan Mingyu smiled amiably. Looking at An Jing, he said with heartfelt sincerity, "See, I can't control the civil and military officials, nor can I control the great clans. They bring calamity upon the world—I'm saddened by it too."
"Of course, I have plans of my own as well. But I can tell you frankly: they are mainly for freedom."
"If you become Emperor, I can simply never set foot in Beixuan Jizhou again—even never enter the Ten Continents for the rest of my life—and remain nothing more than a wandering ghost in the Heavenly Sea."
When he spoke the words "wandering ghost," Xuan Mingyu could not even suppress his delight, throwing back his head in laughter—as though being a wandering ghost was no price or punishment to him at all, but rather a magnificent reward.
He was that carefree, that joyous.
As if he had cast off some crushing burden, some hopeless mess.
Why would he ever become An Jing's enemy?
There were no enemies.
Though it sounded strange, in this Shenjing that had already been destroyed, with only a solitary Xuantian Palace still standing between heaven and earth, An Jing no longer had any target he absolutely had to oppose.
No.
Such a person had never existed from the very beginning.
No one had ever wanted An Jing as an enemy.
An Jing was so powerful, so exceptionally gifted. With everyone believing him to be a Naturalist, no one would wish to stand against him.
Those who bought Yankui, those who developed Yankui—they had initially all wanted to please him, to flatter the founder of the Ascension Path. In truth, they were the ones spreading the Ascension Path.
And if An Jing had been willing to arrive at Shenjing normally and enter through its front gates, then