Not even a single hair on that giant hand had broken.
Its nails were still just as black, its skin just as wrinkled. Not even the finest lines on it had been blasted open in the slightest.
The ammunition exploding against it was like a handful of sand hurled at a mountain rock.
There was smoke, but absolutely no damage.
Inside the Core Control Room, everyone's faces went pale.
This was true despair.
It was not that they could not win. They were not even qualified to hurt their opponent.
The defenses the Mechanical City took the most pride in crumbled before it, and their most concentrated barrage was child's play to it.
This was not a contest between opponents on the same level. It was the gap between an ant and an entire mountain range, where no contest could exist at all.
Everyone turned to look at the figure on the raised platform.
Yang Yong.
At that moment, his eyes were tightly shut as he sat cross-legged in the Deputy City Lord's chair on the platform, his face as peaceful as if he were asleep.
A dark golden glow faintly shone through his chest, a sign of the Ten-Thousand-Forged Primordial Furnace operating within him.
He was immersed in some state they could not understand...
His apertures were opening one after another, and primordial Demonic Qi surged through his meridians. All three hundred and sixty-five apertures were rebuilding his body from its very foundations.
He was transforming.
He could not hear a single sound from outside.
Grand Elder Liu Yijun stared fixedly at Yang Yong.
He knew...
He knew that the entire city's only hope lay in Yang Yong and that wisp of power he had drawn from the Heaven-Opening Giant Axe.
But Yang Yong's eyes were closed now, and