Fa Zhi had not yet spoken when the Fist Tao God, who had been silent like a wild beast, suddenly let out a low growl in agreement.
Almost simultaneously, a beam of light energy shot out from the White Jade Plate on the table and embedded itself into the Fist Tao God's brow, causing his facial veins to bulge, wracked with unbearable pain, as he howled to the sky.
...
Song Country.
The sky was as blue as a sheet of blue xuan paper, with thin wisps of white clouds that seemed to melt in the sunlight, floating gently with the wind, much like the rippling waves on the West Lake below.
On a nearby mountain, Jiang Dali and his group gathered here after ten days of separation.
Seeing Jiang Dali unharmed and still as majestic and robust as ever, without a hair damaged, the emotional Wang Yuyan immediately teared up, threw herself into his embrace, releasing the anxiety she had felt for many days.
