So many Cultivators unleashing their attacks together was naturally extremely terrifying, yet that flat-headed young man still looked indifferent.
Facing the attacks launched by so many powerhouses, he walked step by step through the Void.
"I am the son of the Netherworld King who walks this mortal realm. I represent the Netherworld King and wield the authority of the Netherworld!"
…
The flat-headed young man chanted a spell in an extremely ancient, mysterious, and obscure language.
The content of that spell.
Seemed to be communicating with the Netherworld.
He stretched out his hand and lightly pointed.
A mass of black mist flew out from his fingertip.
Then that mass of black mist blotted out the sky.
It wrapped all the Magical Treasures within it.
At this moment, a terrifying scene occurred.
The cracking sounds kept echoing endlessly from within the black mist.
Inside the black mist.
Those Magical Treasures.
Actually all shattered.
"Hiss!"
