Wang Chongyang pays his respects to the patriarch

The Eighteen Dragon-Subduing Palms was the greatest palm technique in the world.

In Ye Zhuo's hands, its power was even more astonishing.

The enemy before him was Guo Jing, a practitioner of the Quanzhen Sect's orthodox Daoist martial arts whose years of steady cultivation had borne fruit!

By some twist of fate, the palm technique that should have been Guo Jing's pride had instead become Ye Zhuo's weapon.

With a single palm strike, the phantom of a dragon ten thousand zhang long appeared in the sky, covering Mount Zhongnan and blotting out the sun.

Even with Guo Jing's extraordinary talents, the sight sent a shudder through his heart.

He had thought he could enter the realm of a Martial Arts Grandmaster within ten years.

He had believed that Martial Arts Myth was the highest realm anyone could scarcely imagine.

Yet when Wang Chongyang taught him the Nine Yin Manual, he had told him something.

The three higher realms spoken of in rumors truly existed.

As a Peak Expert, Guo Jing could now unleash sword energy over thirty zhang, killing anyone within a hundred meters where they stood.

Ye Zhuo, however, could conjure a dragon phantom ten thousand zhang long with a single palm strike. Such was the enormous gulf between their strength.

Guo Jing gave it everything he had, trying to pierce a single dragon scale with his sword, but all his efforts came to nothing.

He could only stare helplessly at the women behind Ye Zhuo.

One was Mu Nianci, whom he had once regarded as his younger sister. The other was Huang Rong, someone he could never forget after a single glance.

No one understood better than Guo Jing how terrifying it was when someone stayed ahead of you at every turn.

Without Ye Zhuo, perhaps he would