The old man's palm strike changed the color of heaven and earth!
The ink-black palm imprint blotted out the sky and covered the sun, like a gate to hell rising from the abyss of the Nine Netherworlds as it crushed down toward Xiao Yan!
"Brat! Die for this old man!"
The old man's voice was like a vicious ghost shrieking. His eyes were filled with madness, and his aged face twisted into a savage, terrifying grimace!
This palm strike had exhausted 50.6 billion years of his cultivation!
This palm strike had burned away his lifelong essence blood!
This palm strike was already infinitely close to the full-force blow of an Epoch King!
In the distance, a vicious smile finally appeared on the Black Prison Saint Son's pale face.
"Die! Die for this Saint Son!"
"A mere greenhorn dares oppose this Saint Son?"
"With Prison Elder's palm strike, even if Di Cang, the Peerless Immortal King of old, came in person, he would have to retreat three steps!"
He stared fixedly at Xiao Yan, his eyes filled with venom and anticipation.
Yet Zhuge Feng, Wu Wushuang, and the others still stood where they were, their expressions calm.
As though that terrifying palm imprint that blotted out the sky and covered the sun was no more than passing clouds.
Xiao Yan watched the black palm imprint crushing toward him, and the corner of his mouth slowly curled upward.
"Now that has some force."
He murmured softly, but the fighting intent in his eyes boiled furiously at that moment!
"However..."
He raised the Mystic Iron Ruler in his hand, a brilliant gleam flashing through his eyes.
"You think this is enough to kill me?"
"Old bastard, you think far too highly of yourself!"
As his words fell, an aura that made hearts palpitate