Over the next few days, the common people were swept up in excitement, discussing everywhere how the Wang Dalong brothers had been brought to justice.
Meanwhile, the Sky-Crippled Old Man fled with his heavily wounded body.
Though he had escaped with his life, he had exhausted every method and trump card he possessed, and had also suffered a backlash.
His meridians had cracked inch by inch, more than seventy percent of his yin essence had been depleted, the foundation of his dantian was on the verge of collapse, and less than a tenth of his cultivation remained.
If he was not treated quickly, then even if his wounds healed, his cultivation would plummet, and he would never make another inch of progress.
At the end of his rope, he had only one path left.
He had to seek help from his master behind the scenes—that Demon lurking in the shadows, a hundred times stronger and ten thousand times more terrifying than him.
All his sinister cultivation arts had been taught to him by that Demon.
He was the Demon's claw and fang in the human world, its puppet and lackey.
The Demon hidden behind him was the Human Race's true threat, a terrifying existence capable of throwing several provinces into chaos.
The Sky-Crippled Old Man forcefully suppressed the churning wounds within him, turning into a faint wisp of black qi.
Using the last of his strength, he shot toward the Black Miasma Abyss at the northernmost edge of Flowing Cloud Commandery.
That was where the Demon dwelled, a forbidden land of death for the several provinces along Great Yan's border.
He crossed mountains and ridges, slipped through streams, and entered valleys.
At last, the Sky-Crippled Old Man arrived at a vast rift abyss shrouded in black mist year-round, where not