Children cried out as they threw themselves toward their parents. Little girls trembled all over and plunged into their mothers' arms, their faces drenched in tears, only to evaporate into blood mist alongside their families in an instant.
This was a catastrophe, a tragedy of the mortal world, an apocalyptic scene of lives laid waste.
Rumble!
Anlan's Primordial Spirit palm crossed hundreds of millions of miles of void, passing through five great provinces in succession. The slaughter it caused was unimaginable; no one knew how many lives it buried.
The land lay barren for thousands of miles. Hundreds of millions of miles of territory were swept clean, leaving nothing behind. Every living creature burst apart, vanishing from the world forever.
Only when it passed the ninth great province did that enormous hand gradually restrain itself, quietly concealing the aura of an Immortal King. It no longer poured out without restraint, instead growing contained and tranquil.
The hand remained incomparably vast, but it no longer released a destructive aura. All its fluctuations were tightly controlled, unable to leak out easily.
Sure enough, as it passed the tenth province, although the ground still cracked, mountains and rivers collapsed, and casualties were inevitable, many living beings survived.
Afterward, the hand moved ever more slowly. The circulation of its aura ceased to be violent and grew gentler instead.
Anlan was actively controlling his own power, seemingly wary of something. More precisely, he feared that excessive destruction would bring unpredictable consequences.
Eventually, the white skeletal palm stretched across the sky, blotting out the sun. Though it still swept past with overwhelming force, it no longer caused destruction. Even the mountains and rivers stopped shaking violently.
The Immortal King deliberately restrained his might, no longer allowing his aura to wantonly destroy all things.
Such was the