Its voice was clear and cold. It gently spread from the pitch-black night sky, instilling fear in the cultivators below.
Despite the remote location, the destruction of Jiuzhen Palace remained a significant event in the monk world. After hearing the cold and calm voice, they finally realized whose voice the young man's in the sky belonged to. Almost simultaneously, the words "Ye Feng's voice" emerged in their minds!
As the voice sank low, Ye Fengsheng's spirit surged throughout his body. The passionate momentum was like boiling water, completely encompassing him, so that from a distance, people could only see an illusory figure.
Ye Fengsheng took a step forward in the void. The mountain trembled, the plants too. As the Great Realm shifted uneasily, countless gravel rolled down in waves.
