The earth split open.
One of the Threadweaver Celestial's arms had been brutally severed. Layer upon layer of magma erupted and swallowed him.
This was surface magma from the upper realm, hot enough to melt a Spirit Transformation cultivator. He had been blasted even deeper, almost to the planet's core, where terrifying blue flames spilled out and charred him black.
"Myriad Mountain Puppets!"
The Threadweaver Celestial's furious roar came from deep within the magma.
Boom!
Boom, boom!
Jiang Ding looked around.
His sword had cut through the puppet Fate Law's web. Its strands had been rooted deep in the lands of several regions, but his savage blow had driven them inward, setting countless mountains in motion.
Dragged by the puppet threads of fate, those mountains hurtled toward the battlefield.
The mountains of the upper realm came in every size. The smallest stood only a few hundred meters tall, while peaks tens or even hundreds of thousands of meters high were commonplace. All were renowned mountains and rivers of their regions, places rich in spiritual veins and energy. Through the ages, they had inspired countless poets and immortal cultivators and held the hopes of untold living beings.
Many of those mountains still housed Void Refining sects, Spirit Transformation lineages, and Nascent Soul schools. All belonged to the Immortal Artifact Sect, governing their territories in its name and supplying it with an endless stream of flesh-and-blood puppet materials, spirit herbs, and heavenly treasures.
But at that moment, with a single thought from the Celestial, they and their entire sects were ripped from the earth and sent flying toward the battlefield.
"Ancestor..."
"Spare us! Please, spare us..."
Some of the leaders had deep ties to the Immortal Artifact Sect and realized what was happening. They begged without cease.
Their pleas soon became shrill