Under countless stunned gazes, the shattered half of the Demon Race Little Saint's body plummeted from the astral winds high above, crashing onto the grand arena with a loud SPLAT.
Meanwhile, the firework of flesh and blood that had exploded across the sky began to fade, and Grand Grade blood rained down profusely, as if it cost nothing.
Each drop of blood was incredibly dense, falling in viscous streams heavier than a mountain range. It all splattered onto the arena. If a True Immortal hadn't been supporting the stage, it would have surely collapsed under such a tremendous weight.
Lying on the ground and breathing faintly, Chong Shanhu struggled to lift his head. He saw a magnificent Daoist temple, shrouded in a deep gloom, standing motionless in the swaying void.
It seemed as though all the celestial myriad realms were connected to the Daoist temple. On the plaque above the main gate were inscribed two ancient, solemn words.
Sanqing Temple.
