Suddenly, it flickered without warning.
The originally orange flames.
At that moment, a trace of eerie black actually danced within them.
On the meditation cushion.
Ancestor Futu, who had kept his eyes closed all this time, slowly opened them.
Those aged eyes, which should have been cloudy and filled with the vicissitudes of life.
Now had not a trace of white in them.
Meanwhile, elsewhere, the rift deep in the starry sky closed little by little.
The defensive Great Array at the edge of the Great Thousand World also began to radiate a faint white light again as Qing Yanjing repaired it with the Array Disc in her hands.
That suffocating demonic might finally receded like a tide, leaving nothing behind.
In the void.
Xiao Yan let out a long breath of stale air flecked with sparks.
The twenty-two-colored flames on his body slowly died out, and a large section of his black robe's hem had been scorched.
Lin Dong also plopped down in the void and tossed the Thunder Emperor Scepter aside.
He gasped for breath, both palms covered in split, bloody wounds, golden blood dripping through his fingers.
"That old bastard..."
Lin Dong cursed as he tore off a strip of cloth and wrapped it around his palm.
"He's been worn down by that formation for nearly fifty thousand years, yet one casual strike could still crush the three of us like this."
"If he recovers enough to open all nine eyes, we might as well hand the Great Thousand World over on a platter."
Xiao Yan said nothing. Instead, he turned to look at Su Changqing, who stood nearby.
Su Changqing had his head lowered, examining the blue-green longsword in his hand, which had developed a hairline crack.
"That sword strike of yours just now was