Before the central altar of the Witch Clan's sacred land, Ning Chen appeared. After several years, he had returned to the Witch Clan once more.
The dazzling young prodigies of the Blood Moon Ancient Battlefield had met again, but their identities were now entirely different.
Upon the altar, Tian Xin watched the black-clad young man before her, her expression exceedingly complicated.
In merely a few years, this Thirteenth Prince, whose name had shaken the Primeval Demonic Realm, could already stand face-to-face with her.
"The Zijing Witch Empress of my clan died by your hand," Tian Xin sighed softly.
"On the battlefield, blades and swords have no eyes."
There was not a trace of guilt on Ning Chen's face as he said calmly, "If Lady Tian Xin wishes to seek justice for the Zijing Witch Empress, I shall accompany you."
"When lives and deaths are decided on the battlefield, fate holds sway. Your Highness did no wrong. However, ever since we met in the Blood Moon Ancient Battlefield, I have wished to spar with you. Would Your Highness be willing to grant me instruction?" Tian Xin said solemnly.
"A contest should always have some stakes. Since Lady Tian Xin cannot choose the Witch Clan's future path, why not place the outcome on the result of this battle?" Ning Chen said evenly.
"How shall we wager?" Tian Xin asked seriously.
"Ten moves. If Lady Tian Xin cannot win, the Witch Clan will no longer interfere in the war between the two realms," Ning Chen said in a deep voice.
"Ten moves?"
Hearing this, Tian Xin's brows furrowed slightly. "Your Highness is truly confident."
The gap between the King Realm and the Imperial Dao far exceeded imagination. Let alone ten moves, even three were an insurmountable limit.
"Confidence comes only with strength," Ning