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In Xiangnan, Zhao Xiaoxiang was woken by a call from Yang Shiyun.

She completely failed to understand the subsequent livestreams, so she did not waste her time on them.

In fact, it was not just the livestreams of the following days—even with the initial content, most people only understood bits and pieces.

Many people watched the livestream merely for the spectacle. After all, so many powerhouses gathered in one place—it was an unprecedented grand age.

Even the Universal Conflict, once mockingly dubbed the World Sword Trial Senior Tournament, was worlds apart from the scene today.

Thus, during the first few days, some people had complained that lectures were boring and suggested having a friendly exchange of swords instead.

Of course, no one thought that way now. In this situation, all the other powerhouses in the venue combined probably would not be enough for Zhao Cheng to defeat with one hand.

This was no longer a matter of how much stronger he was. The question should be: how many versions ahead was he, exactly?

At the same time, everyone now understood the true reason why every powerhouse, regardless of identity or background, gave Zhao Cheng face.

"To hear the Way in the morning and die in the evening content"—that was already outdated.

With Zhao Cheng's current divine ability, if he learned where you lived in the morning, he could probably carve words into your house from half a globe away on the spot.

He was not just an immortal—he was an ancestor.

Following Yang Shiyun's words, Zhao Xiaoxiang groggily pulled open the curtains. Moonlight poured in, and her sleepy-eyed appearance did not make her look disheveled at all. Instead, it made her seem even more adorably dazed.

But that adorable daze lasted only an instant. The moment she clearly saw the