Yang Jian on the Brink of Death

"Cough, cough..."

In the deep crater, Yang Jian leaned on the giant axe and struggled shakily to his feet once more.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and raised his head. The will to fight in his blood-red eyes had not dimmed. It burned fiercer than ever.

"Again!"

Just two words, yet they held an unyielding will that would not bow even to death.

The sight moved every great power watching, both on the battlefield and beyond.

Shouyang Mountain, Eight Sceneries Palace.

Grand Master Xuan Du watched the scene in the Water Mirror, his brow deeply furrowed.

"Master, do you think Saint Qin Mu will intervene?"

High upon the Cloud Bed, Taishang Laojun sat with his eyes half-closed. An air of effortless serenity flowed around him, as though nothing beyond the palace concerned him.

He did not answer Xuan Du, but his thoughts were clear as a mirror. Qin Mu... With his temperament, how could he stand by while his disciple was bullied like this? This show had only just begun.

Kunlun Mountain, Yuxu Palace.

Primordial Heavenly Venerate watched Peach Mountain coldly, a trace of satisfaction deep in his eyes.

"Fool who knows nothing of life or death. I'll use Haotian's hand to tear out this rotten root of the Interception Sect once and for all!"

The Western Pure Land.

Daoist Jieyin wore his familiar look of suffering. Beside him, Daoist Zhunti held the Seven Treasures Wonderful Tree. Both watched the battle.

"Senior Brother, Yang Jian has extraordinary potential and an unbreakable will. If we could bring him into our West, he would surely become a mighty protector." A sharp gleam flashed in Zhunti's eyes.

The Human Sacred Land.

A figure in imperial robes, imposing beyond compare, stared anxiously toward Peach Mountain.