The Northern Wasteland.
Atop Purple Sky Mountain.
Instead of entering meditation to cultivate as usual, Tai Shang stood at the summit, gazing toward the southeast.
That was the direction of Zhou Mountain. At that very moment, Jiang Yang was being crowned Demon Emperor as tens of millions of the Demon Race on Zhou Mountain bowed together before him.
The grand spectacle shook the Four Seas with its might.
He saw Jiang Yang seated upon a supreme Throne, an utterly sacred, invincible aura sweeping across the Eight Desolations and all six directions.
Upright and honorable, radiant and majestic, glorious and mighty!
He was completely different from the ruthless, domineering Golden Crow of the past.
This was the difference between a supreme emperor and the kings of a single region.
And more importantly...
Tai Shang possessed extraordinary wisdom and understood the realms of cultivation deeply. He discerned that this was by no means the aura of the Seventh Step-it was above the Seven Steps!
With this, Jiang Yang had pulled far too far ahead of him.
Although Tai Shang had already discerned the path ahead, he still needed time to hone his foundations to completion, polish his realm free of flaws, and steadily increase his strength.
In seven thousand years, he truly would not be able to reach the Eighth Step. When they fought as agreed, he would inevitably suffer a crushing defeat.
When that time came, the world as it stood would surely belong to the Demon Race.
Then the Immortal Clan, upon whom he had placed such high hopes, would inevitably lose their struggle against the Demon Race.
Whether the Immortal Clan became the rulers of the world, or even the main body of civilization, bore upon his future Great Dao.
He had a premonition that if the Immortal Clan