Before that slender hand, the terrifying burst of radiance melted away and recoiled as swiftly as lingering early-spring snow beneath the noonday sun.
In an instant, it all vanished.
Before this hand that seemed to brush past like a spring breeze, the violent self-destruction instantly became docile and disappeared without a trace.
Yun Ran, who had already closed her eyes to await death, sensed something strange. She curiously opened her eyes and saw a young man.
This was Ye Tian.
Let us turn time back to earlier.
When those disciples had been dragged out and were about to be thrown into the palace, Ye Tian had faintly furrowed his brow.
Ye Tian was not some so-called saint.
He could even be called somewhat cold-hearted.
If sacrificing some people could save others—or even if countless people had to be sacrificed—as long as the outcome was truly beneficial to him, Ye Tian would make that choice without the slightest hesitation. He would sacrifice those people.
He could even do it himself without batting an eye.
There was only one reason Ye Tian felt uncomfortable.
He still had doubts in his heart.
Was it truly necessary for those people to die, for the lives of the majority to be paid—including those disciples struggling desperately before him, who looked so frail—in order to open the Immortal Dao inheritance and the path out of the Abyss of Sin?
Zhou Mian said it was necessary.
He had even argued it with reason and evidence, winning the trust of nearly everyone present. Even those cultivators who knew they themselves were among those to be sacrificed agreed with Zhou Mian.
But Ye Tian had always felt that things were not like that.
Perhaps one could say that even without absolute certainty, if this was the only possibility left,