Yang Chen also searched his own heart, asking himself: if he faced Yan now, what were his odds of winning?
But the answer was incomparably cruel.
If his odds had been fifty percent at the start, and thirty percent after Dao Ancestor Taiqiu had fallen, then now, he asked himself, they were likely not even ten percent.
Yan's strength remained a mystery even now. Even after he had slain the Nine Gate Dao Ancestors, Yan's laws and hidden trump cards were still unknown.
Yang Chen sighed softly, burying his fury over the Nine Gate Dao Ancestors' death deep within his heart.
The only thing he could not accept was that, after the battle had ended, despite watching so closely from the sidelines, he still had not learned what Yan's laws truly were.
Now that the battle was over, Yan calmly turned around and fixed his gaze on Ye Xiu.
Ye Xiu was arrogant, haughty, and cold, but at this moment, a hint of gravity surfaced in his eyes. It seemed that only now had he finally regarded Yan as a true formidable foe.
"Ye Xiu, one hundred years from now. Spirit God Clan, I hope you will not disappoint me then," Yan said coldly.
Ye Xiu stood with his hands behind his back. "Yan, I also hope you can give me a little amusement. The strength you have displayed so far is not enough."
The corners of Yan's lips rose. He did not pay him any further heed, leaping away and vanishing without a trace.
The two provoked each other, then ultimately strode away in opposite directions, setting their next encounter for a hundred years later.
All the experts knew that, one hundred years from now, a storm of blood and carnage would descend.
The outcome of that battle would