The Immortal Armor Subdues the Saint Sword

The purple-haired ghostly god grinned mockingly, and the space between its brows split open.

The supreme divine skin automatically parted down the middle, revealing nothing but hollow emptiness within—void and eerie. It was impossible to imagine what supported its movements.

A fissure opened across its forehead as it voluntarily embraced that terrifying spiritual radiance.

Zi Tiandu transformed into a divine body and had already reached the point of no return. He could only charge headlong into the ancient emperor's skin. The next instant, the smooth slit closed and returned to normal.

"Ah..."

A sudden, incomparably shrill scream rang out from within the purple-haired ghostly god's abdomen.

The bone-chilling roars and struggles continued for a moment before gradually falling silent, leaving only calm. The body of the supreme divine skin became ever more crystalline, overflowing with purple light.

The purple-haired ghostly god seemed as though nothing had happened, purple radiance shining from its eyes.

Its temporary wielder had perished, and the ancestral king weapon, bereft of divine power to sustain it, dropped weakly to the ground at its feet.

The purple-haired ghostly god crouched down, picked up the dragon-skin drum, and gently shook it.

"Boom, boom, boom..."

From time to time, the pleasant yet low notes of a heavenly drum sounded out. It was clearly the rhythm of a widely circulated folk tune from the Eastern Wasteland. Though it could not be called majestic and grand, it possessed a fresh, elegant charm.

A contented, childlike smile appeared on the purple-haired ghostly god's face.

Amid the corpses and blood strewn across the ground, the scene was eerie yet strangely harmonious.

"Clang!"

A deafening boom resounded as sparks flew everywhere. Ancient Emperor Wang Teng struck out with his fist, sending the humming Mother Qi Dao Cauldron flying away—when a ghostlike figure suddenly