In the rain of blood, Zhao Cheng looked up at the monster in the heavens, and all the sorrow and joy in his heart became fuel for the fire of his soul.
This monster was powerful—powerful beyond anything before. Its level was absolutely not merely Silver; it was certainly above Silver.
On the enormous monster's body, Zhao Cheng clearly saw patterns in two colors. One was gold, nearly Immortal; the other was crimson, like the color left behind when life burned to its very limit.
If Gold lay above Silver, then this monster was undoubtedly using the Gold realm as its foundation as it charged toward an even higher realm.
And in the universe, what crimson substance could signify the extraordinary nature of life?!
Zhao Cheng thought of stars.
Crimson stars.
In the previous battle, he had challenged Silver with Black Iron, and only after paying an enormous price had he finally attained Victory.
But in this battle, even if his former strength reappeared and combined with his current power, it would still be impossible for him to cross two great tiers of life and defeat such a formidable being.
Yet faced with an invincible foe like this, Zhao Cheng was not lost. Once the fire of his soul had ignited, he had only one direction—straight ahead!
With the sword in his hand, he would cleave through thorns and brambles!
His sword would give him the answer.
Without question, he had changed greatly. Before entering this space—or rather, before grasping the sword—his heart had been weak. He had been filled with confusion and reluctance, unable to remain unmoved by favor or disgrace, unable to treat all things as lightly as drifting clouds.
But now, he had done it. Everything that hindered his heart had been turned into fuel.
Battle after