Yet—despite the Bai Clan's overwhelming advantage—the situation was far from ideal.
Because the most critical battlefield had yet to be decided.
BOOM!
The earth split apart.
The sky trembled.
The half-Qilin roared, its voice carrying the weight of ancient blood and absolute authority.
Even while facing three Earth Immortal cultivators—the Li Clan's Grand Elder, the Zhao Clan's Grand Elder, and the Imperial Ancestor—it stood unbowed.
If anything—it was they who were struggling.
Each exchange sent shockwaves tearing through the battlefield. Immortal techniques shattered against its scales, barely leaving a mark.
Blood stained the air.
"He's too strong!"
The Zhao Clan's Grand Elder, Zhao Wujin, gritted his teeth as he was forced back.
Even three Earth Immortals weren't enough to gain the upper hand.
The half-Qilin's eyes burned with disdain.
"So this is the best you can offer?"
Its voice rumbled like rolling thunder—ancient and contemptuous.
"You disappoint me."
