A Cult Master whose might shook the Three Thousand Dao Provinces, whose Dao Lineage had endured for countless Years and whose disciples ruled several provinces—a man who could decide the lives and deaths of hundreds of millions with a single word.
A Cult Master invincible even in the Three Thousand Dao Provinces, who had stood above the clouds for a million years, looking down on the changing Mortal World.
He was dead.
Just like that, he had died in the Eight Domains, in the place they called a cage, a place they scorned and dismissed as filthy.
When people were killed, they died.
Cult Masters were no exception.
Once he was beheaded, all his arts vanished, and every marvel faded into the ordinary.
As the divine light and Great Dao Laws shrouding his body dissipated, a middle-aged man was revealed.
He wore splendid clothes woven from the finest Divine Brocade and Immortal Silk in the Three Thousand Dao Provinces. His severed head lay apart from his body, its eyes wide with disbelief and resentment.
And with a trace of longing for life.
But he was already dead. After Willow God had singled him out time and again, he had died without fanfare.
Fame and glory turned to dust, splendor came to nothing, and all his brilliance passed away, never to return.
His corpse floated in the air, carried off into the distance by the surging wind.
The other Cult Masters and Giants watched their companion's body, their pupils contracting sharply. The shock in their hearts was plain to imagine.
Someone had actually fallen...
They had expected a journey much like a holiday. Instead, one of them had lost his life.
They were shocked. Willow God was not.
With one fewer Cult Master against her, Willow God grew still more composed,