The Fall of the Sword Palace

Mei Sicheng was indeed no simple man. As early as a thousand years ago, he had already begun to suspect the Holy Emperor.

But he had realized just how powerful and terrifying the Holy Emperor was. So he chose to say nothing, burying everything in his heart and shouldering it all alone.

Because he knew that some things would fail the moment they were spoken aloud—and cost one's life.

Otherwise, even if Wang Qi held his life in his hand, he would not have been able to make him submit so easily.

To Mei Sicheng, his life had already been under the Holy Emperor's threat. Throwing his lot in with Wang Qi now merely meant trading one person threatening him for another. In truth, his situation had not worsened.

Furthermore, the faction represented by Wang Qi looked far more promising than the Holy Emperor's Ancient Method Immortal Sect.

Over the past two thousand years, God Continent had grown stronger year after year. Yet among the overseas Ancient Method Immortal Sects, even Dividing the Spirit cultivators died one fewer with each death. How could they compare?

The Ancient Method Cultivators on Linghuang Island had never had a choice. But now that Wang Qi had tossed out such a huge painted pie... Mei Sicheng had a choice this time. Naturally, he wanted to become a Modern Dharma Cultivator—or at least cultivate Modern Dharma.

So long as things were truly as Wang Qi had said, and he could reverse the cultivation methods of high-level Ancient Method Cultivators.

Thus, he also told Wang Qi some of the intelligence he had gathered over the years.

"There really is something wrong with Linghuang Island," Mei Sicheng said.

Over the past two thousand years, Dividing the Spirit cultivators had died one fewer with each death, and very