Just then, an old man appeared out of thin air. "What an arrogant brat. Today, I'll teach you a proper lesson on Ghosthand Pill King's behalf."
The old man wore a white Daoist robe and a lotus crown, looking every bit like an immortal sage.
Zhao Hong's expression remained unchanged as he pointed his crimson staff at the old man. "I was wondering who it was. So it's Martial Uncle Wu from the Soaring Immortal Sect.
What, is the Soaring Immortal Sect going to bully the young with the old too?"
The old man's expression did not change. "Doesn't your Eight Desolations Pavilion often claim that it is one family with the Soaring Immortal Sect? Since you call me Martial Uncle, it is only natural for me to discipline you properly."
As he spoke, countless silver phantoms flew from his body and transformed into swords.
The swords gathered together, forming a silver dragon over a hundred zhang long.
Before the silver dragon could even move, its overwhelming killing intent already made it difficult for Liu Yuanchen to endure.
Zhao Hong's face darkened slightly. "Yuan Chen, Tie Shan, the two of you get inside the temple."
At his words, Liu Yuanchen and Meng Tieshan quickly retreated into the temple.
Only then did Liu Yuanchen realize that Cheng Jiao, who sat cross-legged on a prayer cushion, had not turned into an empty shell as legends described when one's primordial spirit left the body.
Sweat continuously dripped down Cheng Jiao's face while endless streams of mana poured into the ground.
The golden figure beside him was likewise continuously channeling golden energy underground.
Naturally, Liu Yuanchen did not dare disturb him. He merely hid to one side of the main hall and watched the scene outside through the window.
The silver dragon hovered in