Wuluo had sensed that something was wrong some time ago.
Indeed, ever since he had failed to kill Zhao Cheng last time and instead suffered a tremendous backlash himself, the entire Ancient Cosmos had remained calm and peaceful.
But Wuluo's mental makeup had been extraordinarily unusual since birth. From a very young age, he possessed an immensely powerful instinct for sensing fortune and calamity.
It could be said that this instinct was the foundation that had allowed him to steadily reach the pinnacle.
Over the endless years, there had been no telling how many lifeforms more brilliantly gifted than him, yet he alone had reached the summit of the Ancient Cosmos.
It was not that the other powerhouses had lacked sufficient caution.
Rather, accidents were not something one could avoid simply by wishing to be cautious. There was a saying: calamity falls from the heavens. No matter how steady and prudent one was in conduct, one could not withstand the unforeseen.
Others could not manage it, but Wuluo could.
Even when he had first moved against Zhao Cheng, it had been because some divine instinct in the unseen had detected a trace of danger.
And at the time, he had acted with utter decisiveness. He had not cared in the slightest that he was already a Heavenly Lord of the Eighth Heaven while Zhao Cheng was merely a Half-Lord, an ant beneath his notice. He had struck without hesitation.
But the absurd part was that, even after using such insidious methods, he had still failed to win.
It was no less absurd than an emperor of the Yuan dynasty foreseeing the future, sending an army of a hundred thousand to hack Zhu Yuanzhang to death while Zhu Yuanzhang was still begging for food—only to somehow still fail to kill him