Black Lotus Soul Threshold, no one can imagine such freedom.
A crystal pure white figure darts across the battlefield, utterly transparent, and every sword strike is an instant kill.
On usual days, even the clan leader would treat the Netherworld Corpse Demon as a severe threat, yet in front of him, it was no more than weed.
And those Corpse Fiends capable of nearly exterminating the whole Ancient Race weren't much different.
Just like a breeze sweeping through.
Silent and unnoticeable in passing, but leaving a field of corpses behind.
Song Yan slightly tidied up the battlefield, then stood before the Twelve-Petaled Black Lotus Fire proudly blooming in the snow.
This fire, this environment, was something he remembered; it was where the old Black Lotus was tragically killed by the backlash of Black Lotus Fire; who would have thought the Master of Heaven and Earth would use the Formless Ancient Race to fill this pit.
