Zhenwu's long hair was deep black, like his ink-dark eyes.
The True Martial Sword in his hand was so sharp that none dared look directly at its blade.
A member of the Demon Race glanced at the sword's edge, only for his eyes to be pierced through by the sword intent, blinding him.
Zhenwu looked toward the holy hall radiating boundless Dao might and said calmly, "No one has ever been able to stop me from going where I wish to go.
"Not even you, Holy Ancestor."
"Zhenwu, with the time to strike against Heaven approaching, you do not wish to stir up more trouble either, do you?" the aged voice from within the holy hall replied.
"I will not stop you from striking against Heaven, nor could I stop you.
"But this man must die.
"You should understand that this is not merely my will."
"He is a disciple of the True Martial Sacred Sect. I have a responsibility to protect him," Zhenwu said flatly.
"You are threatening me?
"Then you are gravely mistaken.
"No matter whose will it is, I, Zhenwu, will never be controlled by anyone in this life."
"Neither of us will intervene. How about we watch from the sidelines?" The voice within the holy hall fell silent for a moment.
It finally said.
"If you refuse, then I can only battle you.
"Let us see just how capable you people who seek to strike against Heaven truly are."
"The ancient gods did so back then. The Devil Master and the Empress did as well.
"Today, you, Zhenwu, are walking this same road.
"Is Heaven truly so easy to strike down?"
Hearing the Holy Ancestor's words, Zhenwu frowned slightly and fell into thought.
From a certain perspective, if the Holy Ancestor wished to stop him, the