"The next stretch is expected to be very dangerous."
Zhao Ming took a breath, his gaze incomparably steady as he spoke with resolve. "Your Highness, we—"
Li Su shook his head. "The underworld is only so big. As long as this canopy remains closed, it's impossible to escape. If the dead souls truly seize control of Fengdu City, hiding will be of no use."
"You saw my battle just now and know the techniques I possess, right?"
Zhao Ming and the others' eyes lit up, and they nodded fervently.
To disciples of the Interception Sect, the Immortal-Slaying Sword Formation was unquestionably a symbol—the strongest formation in the Primordial World, without equal.
Even if Saints wished to break the formation, four of them had to enter it together before they could break the deadlock.
In a sense, this was a heavenly opening hand, an absolute trump card in hand.
After all, one had to understand just how difficult it was for those words—four Saints entering the field at once—to become reality!
The Primordial World was not a place where Saints walked everywhere and Great Luo were less than dogs. In that vast Primordial World, those who could become Saints numbered only in the single digits. Three of them were the Three Pure Ones alone. One could well imagine what kind of existence the Immortal-Slaying Sword Formation was.
Two words: unsolvable!
"Your Highness means...?"
Li Su nodded. "Yes. I hope you can enter my sword formation and bear the Immortal-Slaying formation eyes."
Though he was accustomed to fighting alone, that did not mean Li Su did not understand how to borrow force to strike force, or use numbers against numbers.
The dead souls. The Black Mountain Sect.
Whether it was the former or the latter, their numbers and combat strength were both