Seeing Xu Zimo sheathe his blade, many people hastily withdrew their gazes.
They stood ready in tight formation, like obedient students listening to a lesson.
Xu Zimo paid no attention to the others.
That single strike was enough to awe everyone present.
From now on, anyone who thought the True Martial Sacred Sect had become a soft persimmon that anyone could squeeze after the True Martial Great Emperor's departure would have to weigh their own strength first.
Xu Zimo raised his head and looked toward the heavens.
Although the battle between Three Blades Great Emperor and Elder Taishan had yet to end, it was already nearing its conclusion.
Elder Taishan bore Mount Tai upon his back. Though his aura had initially been heavy and his momentum astonishing,
as the two engaged in such intense clashes,
Three Blades Great Emperor was clearly the superior one.
The blade intent in his hand was not merely incomparably sharp; it was also unceasing, flowing forth without end.
It was as though it were inexhaustible.
No matter how many times they clashed, he seemed tireless, able to maintain his peak condition.
Elder Taishan's expression changed drastically.
He knew that if this continued, defeat would be inevitable. The humiliation of years past would likely be repeated.
And this time, it would not merely leave behind a scar—he might even lose his life here.
At that thought, Elder Taishan could no longer care about a powerhouse's dignity or avenging old grievances.
He shouted directly, "Fellow Daoists, lend me a hand!"
In his imagination, ten kings and two ancestors killing an unknown junior should have been as steady as Mount Tai, easily within reach.
Yet when he turned around, his face filled with horror.
In the void, where were the ten kings and two ancestors? Only the faint