Since the beginning of the nation, there has only been one general so formidable.
His name was Chen Yang.
He held the high post of Nine Gates Admiral and was titled the Zhennan Prince.
He was a god within the Martial Department, revered by his own people and feared by his enemies.
Wu Chen sat paralyzed on the ground, the overwhelming shock nearly suffocating him. Despite his title as the King of Martial Kings, he was nothing compared to the man before him. At most, he was a mere jester.
Wu Yanting spat out a large mouthful of blood. His eleventh-rank cultivation crumbled to dust, leaving him a ruined man.
CREAK.
The sound of a chair scraping against the floor echoed through the deathly silent hall. All around, people retreated in terror, their divine spirits scattered, utterly at a loss.
HISS!
Sharp intakes of breath could be heard one after another. Who could have imagined that this peerless legend would appear before them on such an occasion?
