In truth, the Skywater Qilin had said nothing wrong.
The Cloud-Dream Realm had been this way since ancient times: humanity was weak, and demons ran rampant.
For countless ages, the Nine Great Dao Sects had struggled to hold on, yet all they had managed was to eke out an existence beneath the demons' very noses.
For the humans of the Cloud-Dream Realm, the Cloud-Dream Palace was the firmament pressing down upon their heads.
And for the mortal martial artists of Great Tang, the Cloud-Dream Palace was heaven itself, lofty and inviolable.
The Skywater Qilin stood motionless in the air.
He unleashed no towering aura. His composure alone was enough to pin down every spark of life in Chang'an.
Such was the might of a prodigy from the Cloud-Dream Palace.
A single demon was enough to sweep aside every human before him.
Only after a long while did the sixteen fallen, peach-red figures struggle to recover.
The direct disciple leading them staggered upright and wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth.
She turned and looked around.
Two of her fellow disciples had died on the spot, their life force extinguished.
Most of the survivors were grievously wounded, their Daoist robes stained with blood.
She gently pressed her pale lips together.
Before leaving the sect, she had imagined that their opponent would be powerful.
She had also known that entering this game meant going to her death.
But never had she imagined such an enormous gulf between them.
He was clearly only at the Eight-Piece Chessmaster Realm, yet he filled their hearts with such despair.
A sorrowful sigh scattered into the night wind.
She rose impassively and said calmly, "Form the array."
Rustle, rustle-
The wind swept past her ears.
Thirteen swaying figures dragged their broken bodies back to her