He clearly stood still, yet everyone could imagine what the sword recipient would go through under this ancient sword chant.
Pain!
Unimaginable pain!
"Boom——"
The Hundred Ghosts Altar exploded with dots of light, not shattering, but transforming into tens of thousands of streams of light, embedding into tens of thousands of Hua Changdeng's dream world, protecting his body, spirit, and intent.
Following closely, the Three Swords of Sword Demon trembled simultaneously, splitting and disintegrating, similarly retreating into the dream as protection, warding off the Heavenly Unravel of the ten thousand swords.
"Mortal stance, sword suppresses the Ancestral God."
Just this scene alone, the four words "Eighth Sword Deity", in the minds of the cultivators from the five regions, were already held aloft on the divine altar, difficult to bring down.
The oppressive feeling of fighting across levels, far more shocking than crushing at the same realm after reaching Ancestral God.
