In the air, Ling Xian's black hair was softly tussling and his white robe was dyed with blood. Even though he was heavily injured, his normal grandeur did not at all lessen. Like a descended immortal that hadn't been seen for generations, his natural temperament was out of the world.
Before him, an ancient zither hung in midair. Though it was not emitting bright heavenly light nor was it seeping out terrifying Qi, the feeling it imposed onto others was as profound as the deep sea – mysterious and terrifying.
The dragon's chant was long gone, and the phoenix cry was no longer bright. The entire space was silent, as if everything had fallen dead.
The completion levelled cultivators from the four clans were stunned frozen as they stared at Ling Xian with pure shock in their eyes.
One loud rumble caused the mountain to crack open and defeated the entire enemy's army. How powerful was this?
How dominating was this?