The phantom raised its head, gazing at the broken blazing sun on the horizon.
Upon its shoulders, it seemed to bear mountains and rivers.
Beneath its feet, it seemed to tread upon the years.
The sudden change drew the gazes of countless figures from every faction present.
Pan Cangheng looked at the shattered battle platform in the distance, and his expression changed abruptly.
"Over there..."
An aged voice rang out.
For the first time, it carried faint ripples he could barely suppress.
"Could that be the place where our ancestor fell all those years ago?"
The moment his words fell.
The blood qi that had surged uncontrollably from Pan Cangheng's palm halted above the shattered battle platform.
The blood qi churned, refusing to disperse.
From afar, it looked like a sea of blood-red clouds, shrouding the entire platform.
The next moment.
Boom!
A dull, thunderous sound came from deep within the battle platform.
It was not particularly loud, yet to everyone's ears, it was as though someone had struck a war drum.
Boom! Boom!
Two more muffled booms followed.
As the drumbeats echoed, the dark-red wasteland beneath their feet trembled faintly.
The ancient battle phantoms that had risen from the dried-up river of blood also froze in unison at that moment.
One indistinct face after another turned, their gazes passing over everyone present to settle upon the shattered battle platform in the distance.
Pan Yue's body jolted.
The Sun-Chasing Mark that had just been suppressed lit up around him once more.
Yet this time, the veins contained none of the frenzied battle intent that bewitched the mind.
Instead, an indescribably bleak sorrow flooded into Pan Yue's consciousness.
"Great Elder, this sound..."
Pan Yue opened his mouth, his voice carrying obvious hesitation. As the sound entered his ears, he felt his