The three of them talked as they walked, then settled into a hotel for the time being.
Lu Xueqi said, "After that..."
That day, the two armies faced each other across the battlefield.
Each side sent out nine of its strongest fighters. Nine battles would decide everything.
If Xu Han won, he would unite the continent under one rule.
If Xu Han lost, the continent would fracture again, with rival powers carving it up and countless lives lost.
By his calculations, years of war should have worn down the enemy's powerful Soul Masters. When the final confrontation came, only a few battered fighters would remain.
But plans rarely survived reality.
On the eve of the decisive battle, a terrifying pressure suddenly rose from the enemy camp—
An ancient patriarch who should have been buried years ago had been forcibly awakened!
He had cultivated for centuries and possessed deep reserves. Though he was at death's door, he still wielded the strength of an ordinary Titled Douluo.
Worse, he held a Level 8 Soul Tool of astonishing power.
Xu Han stood in the command tent, watching the surge of Soul Power rise into the sky in the distance. His face darkened.
He had intended to stall. Knowing the patriarch had little time left, he planned to stretch out the intervals between matches until the man died.
But the enemy was no fool.
The patriarch's camp clearly understood the weakness of its trump card. Instead, they sharply limited his appearances. Unless Xu Han's side sent out a truly formidable fighter, the patriarch would not take the field.
It was a deadlock.
Send someone weak, and the enemy would refuse to fight.
Send someone strong, and he would be playing straight into their hands.
Xu Han searched for a way out and found