Xuanchi Island seemed to have been quietly stirred by the threads of fate.
More than a decade earlier, Qing Chen had slaughtered almost everyone across Xuanchi Island.
For a time, the name Blood River Old Devil had thundered across several archipelagos, chilling the hearts of those who heard it and terrifying those who beheld him out of their wits.
That time, after years of meticulous planning, Qing Chen had finally unleashed that inhuman massacre.
That bloody storm had brought him and the Demon Lotus Sect countless benefits;
yet at the same time, like a seed, it had planted bone-deep hatred in countless hearts.
And today, Qing Chen had actually set foot once more on this land he had once washed in blood.
Moreover, with the bearing of a sovereign ruling all beneath heaven, he brazenly treated the entire island as his own backyard, his base of operations.
The leadership of Cold Mountain Temple had actually handed this island over to Qing Chen for the time being;
they had made it a bridgehead for the assault on Lesser Cold Temple.
Ah, the affairs of this world truly were subject to fickle fate and the whims of fortune.
On Xuanchi Island, the atmosphere within the Condensed Jade Army's operational command center was heavy.
The surrounding walls were all cast from dark iron, their icy gleam faintly exuding a murderous air.
"Elder Xin, spare me the lengthy details. Tell me what matters."
Qing Chen sat upright on the black stone chair at the head of the room, his voice icy.
He wore a Purple-Gold Crown, its rim inlaid with three pieces of supreme-grade second-tier black jade the size of pigeon eggs. Their luster was deep and subdued; this was the regulation crown reserved exclusively for the Condensed Jade Sect's Deputy Sect Master.
This