When You're Out in the World, You Need to Have Backing

Crack—squelch.

Yan Lanting's old face was bloodless, his throat working frantically, yet he still could not stop the scarlet slurry flowing from the corner of his lips.

The slurry quickly soaked through his lapels, but the old man clutched Shen Yi's robe hem in a death grip, the veins on the back of his hand bulging as though he were exhausting the last shred of his strength.

The three Southern Suppression Generals were severely wounded.

In the vast Glazed Prefecture, across the sprawling Great Southern Continent, when faced with that incomparably enormous mountain of flesh, there was no one left ahead to stop it.

And under such circumstances, Yan Lanting actually wanted to prevent Shen Yi from stepping forward.

Only after truly experiencing the Southern Emperor's strength firsthand could one realize just how pale and feeble the scattered words recorded about it in ancient texts truly were.

This fiend was no enemy that human strength could overcome!

Even back then, the Divine Dynasty, sheltered by the Immortal Court, had called upon that great sect and merely driven it into the wilderness. They had failed to kill it completely.

Much less today's Great Southern Continent, which had already been abandoned by the Immortal Court.

"Go—Lin Shuya—go find Lin Shuya—"

Yan Lanting finally forced out an incomplete sentence. The other two Southern Suppression Generals also remembered the letter they had casually slapped away onto the ground earlier.

The three old fools had eaten the people's incense offerings for so many years; they had no right to take that path. But a prodigy like Nanyang had no reason to remain here and be buried alongside them.

Shen Yi did not turn around. He merely gazed quietly at the indigo mountain of flesh overhead, its oppressive presence making it slightly difficult to breathe.