Nine Dragons

Chu Ming said, "So I need you to hold the seal. Once I go in, the Abyss Great Lord will assault the seal with everything it has. You must hold on for at least one shichen."

One shichen.

Those four words fell into the void like four massive boulders, crushing down upon everyone's heart.

The seven exchanged glances. They saw the gravity in one another's eyes.

It was not ordinary gravity, but the gravity of facing death.

To withstand the Abyss Great Lord's full-force assault for one shichen.

That was not a battle. It was torment.

Like standing beneath a waterfall and letting ten thousand tons of water pound against your body for one shichen.

Like standing at the heart of a storm and letting countless blades carve through your flesh for one shichen.

The middle-aged woman pressed her lips together even more tightly.

She looked toward the depths of the seal, apprehension flashing through her eyes.

She had witnessed the Abyss Great Lord's might.

Though she had not been present for that battle thirty thousand years ago, she had studied the traces it left behind for ten thousand years. She knew what that meant. The bald man's temples began throbbing again.

He said nothing, merely clenched his fists.

The white-haired old man closed his eyes.

His hands no longer trembled. Instead, they were steady as a pair of iron clamps.

Yet beneath that steadiness lay a certain resolve.

Like someone making his final preparations.

The young man's expression remained cold and stern, but something was changing in those deep-blue eyes.

Like currents beneath an ice sheet—the surface was calm, but beneath it, everything churned.

Venerable Dragonbone drew a deep breath.

He inhaled so deeply that his chest swelled.

All nine dragon phantoms lit up at once, their golden radiance