Frosty Snow Wasteland's Killing Intent Surges, Dragon-Patterned Armor Repels Thunderous Roars

Wu'an City, Blood-Robe Marquis Mansion.

Zhao Cheng had just returned from the Mohist Pavilion. He strode into the main hall, and before he could even take a seat, Zhao Gongming emerged from beneath the corridor, followed by a string of figures.

The moment those seven or eight people entered the hall, the mansion guards waiting on either side instinctively tightened their grips on their sword hilts.

There was no other reason—they simply looked too terrifying.

The leader stood nearly ten feet tall, with a single horn growing from his head. The horn was bluish-black, densely veined with spiraling patterns, and faint lightning flickered through those grooves.

Behind him followed a Daoist with a slightly hunched back. Yet two fleshy ridges bulged from his hump, as though a pair of wings had once burst through his flesh there.

Further back stood a lean, tall Daoist whose ears were so long they nearly hung to his shoulders. Fine silvery-white fur grew from their tips, while his eyes were amber vertical pupils.

There was also a female Daoist, two fangs faintly visible at the corners of her lips, her ten fingernails black as ink jade.

The rest either had beastly legs with reversed joints, scales at the backs of their necks, or double pupils in their eyes. Every one of them possessed unfathomably deep auras, yet all carried an archaic demonic air utterly at odds with Central Plains cultivators.

In their previous lives, these people had all been disciples of the Jie Sect.

Master Tongtian taught without distinction; ten thousand immortals had flocked to his seat, and more than half of them had been spirits of plants and trees, or enlightened beings among scaled and feathered creatures.

During the Investiture of the Gods calamity, these outer disciples had died, ascended the list, or