On this day.
Travel-worn and weather-beaten, his body still stained with stubborn, dried blood, he finally stepped into the Southern Border like an old man nearing his grave. Along the way, how many cultivators of the Ten Thousand Clans had he killed, how many Immortal Passes had he broken through?
He could no longer count them. Much of what had happened had already blurred in his mind.
Once.
He had thought he could slip into the Southern Border without anyone knowing, mingling among the cultivators of the Ten Thousand Clans. But after smashing through one Immortal Pass after another and killing his way here, he had abandoned that thought entirely. This time, there was no slipping through unnoticed.
Years ago, old friends had still fought bloody battles alongside him.
Now, only he remained.
Wang Qicang's gaze was heavy as he walked toward the frontier, step by step. Over ten million troops guarded the Southern Border—the most elite allied army of the Ten Thousand Clans in the Three Thousand Immortal Territories. Dozens of immortal artifacts even held the border in check.
The number of immortals stationed there had never been known.
To clash with them head-on and break through the pass was a fantasy from the Arabian Nights.
Unfortunately, a head-on clash was all he had left. There was no road back, no room for regret. He could only press onward.
Whoosh...
Vast clouds of yellow sand swept past.
Before him, there was no sight of the myriad races of the Three Thousand Immortal Territories mingling with foreign races from the Outer Domain, no motley crowd of dragons and fish. Only a vast battlefield remained. Directly ahead of him, a hundred thousand Tribulation Transcendence troops stood in formation.
At the forefront of the formation, a man stood atop a towering Immortal