The Divine Temple was empty;
the world so silent it felt unusual.
The insults from Wang Jixuan still echoed in the ears and hearts of the various experts. It couldn't be said to be soul-stirring, nor would it provide them any twisted pleasure; there was only mutual hostility, with neither side backing down.
Sword Nine, who was in the high sky, calmly sheathed his treasure sword.
Sword Nine snorted coldly and said nothing before disappearing without a trace.
As Po Luo's wisp of a shadow vanished, the entire Divine Temple fell into complete silence.
Wang Jixuan breathed a sigh of relief inside, beads of cold sweat were evaporated directly; yet, on the surface, he remained calm, as if everything was under his control and the victory was assured.
Suddenly, a transmission voice reached Master Wang's ear.
This voice was faint, seemingly coming from nowhere, but it was sent by Po Luo.
