Before the Ancestor Dragon Soul.
A group of figures in black robes trembled, unable to withstand that overwhelming bloodline pressure. They dropped to their knees, blood seeping out from the black robes, dyeing them red.
The Ancestor Dragon was the Lord of Ten Thousand Dragons.
The very first dragon after the creation of the world, wrought from the very workings of heaven and earth.
Even with only a wisp of soul remaining, the bloodline power he released was not something ordinary beings could endure.
Only the white-robed man stood calmly before the Ancestor Dragon Soul, his tone indifferent as he said, "And what can you do now? You're just a remnant soul—if you make a move, you'll scatter entirely. Once your soul is gone and you miss reincarnation, isn't that just too great a loss?"
"Moreover, even if you scatter your soul for one desperate strike, it won't affect me in the slightest."
