Purple lightning tears a tiny opening on the black barrier, densely packed thunder serpents begin to greedily devour the surrounding black aura.
Simultaneously, the fourth thunder light appears.
The originally small opening is instantly torn wider under the bombardment of the fourth lightning strike.
"What the hell is going on?" Sealing Ghost Saint Hand looks as if he's seen a ghost.
He senses the terrifying power fluctuations on the purple thunder light, each ray of lightning makes his heart race.
And those ninety-nine Immortal Rhythm Level cultivators have faces looking ashen. They desperately channel divine power within themselves, trying to repair the crack on the black barrier, but even with all their effort, the damn fissure continues to expand.
