Great cultivators at the Nascent Soul Late Stage lived for eighteen hundred years. Which of them had not cultivated bitterly for a thousand years and endured countless tribulations just to barely reach this point?
How old was Qing Chen? How many years had passed since he had burst onto the scene as a Nascent Soul cultivator?
His magic power was as massive as a mountain, his blood qi as searing as a furnace. He clearly had yet to truly grow angry, yet he had already chilled every cultivator's heart.
Qing Chen really had returned.
Everyone stared at the figure in the doorway, their minds briefly going blank.
How did he look even remotely like someone gravely wounded and dying, as the rumors claimed? How did he look like someone whose foundations had been badly damaged?
True Lord Budong's lips moved. Now that he had seen Qing Chen return safely with his own eyes, his cultivation actually at the Nascent Soul Late Stage, his heart finally eased a little, all his worries gone.
Lin Changsheng's eyes reddened slightly. He cupped his hands in salute. "Master."
"Rise." Qing Chen suddenly raised his right hand. Only then did everyone notice the object he held.
It was a venomous fang, a pitch-black fang broken off until only a little over a foot remained.
A drop of venom was still slowly gathering at its tip. An icy aura of demonic poison instantly spread throughout the Golden Scale Hall.
Old Man Tianchi's eyelid gave a violent twitch.
Behind her veil, First Tower Lord Yaoyue's eyes abruptly froze, and her lips parted slightly.
They all recognized it as the life-bound venomous fang of the Three-Headed Black-Tailed Snake's main head.
Qing Chen casually tossed it. The fang struck the center of the hall with a clang, cracking the