Refining the Dao Fruit

When the seven Venerable Dragonbones rushed into the seal, this was the sight that greeted them.

They were moving very fast.

Though their mana had run dry, their peak Third Step physical bodies remained.

Seven figures shot in from beyond the seal like seven arrows loosed from the bowstring, passing through the shattering rune fragments and the collapsing void rifts before landing beside Chu Ming.

The middle-aged woman staggered when she landed, nearly falling over.

Her legs were trembling—not from fear, but from exhaustion.

The bald brute collapsed straight onto the ground, gulping down breaths as his chest heaved like a bellows.

The white-haired elder's steps were fairly steady, but his hands trembled incessantly like withered branches in the wind.

The young man dropped to one knee, one hand bracing against the void while the other covered the wound in his chest. Blood seeped through his fingers.

Yet all of them were looking at Chu Ming.

Seeing that he was still standing, still breathing, and that the mark between his brows was still glowing, all seven heaved a sigh of relief.

That breath escaped too suddenly, too violently, like a string stretched to its limit snapping at last.

Venerable Dragonbone's shoulders sagged, Jian Wuxin's furrowed brow eased for an instant, and Elder Mo closed his eyes briefly.

But Chu Ming did not relax.

He stood at the center of the seal, gray-gold light swirling around him.

That light was far dimmer than before, yet it remained stable.

His gaze was not on the seven of them, but fixed relentlessly on the cracks.

On the pair of eyes opening in the depths of those cracks.

"Leave. Now."

His voice was not loud; it could even be called calm.

But those two words carried an urgency that allowed no doubt.

"The seal