The four sect leaders exchanged glances. Zhao Kuang's narrow eyes hardened. Wang Deyu's portly body shifted. Han Tianxiao's scarred face twisted into a grin. Madam Fengyan's composed face remained cold.
"Take the girl," Zhao Kuang said.
The four armies surged.
Ten thousand cultivators moved. The sky became a wall of spiritual energy, the combined pressure descending on the Azure Cloud Sect like a collapsing mountain. The defensive formation arrays on the sect's perimeter activated, the diagrams glowing, the barriers rising. But the barriers cracked. Flickered. Failed under the overwhelming pressure.
Jin Wuchen roared. His Golden Core energy erupted. His enormous frame launched forward, his fist condensing peak Golden Core qi into a blade of golden light that tore through the advancing army's front line. Bodies flew. Blood sprayed. But more came. More. More.
