Who Are You?

"Heaven's Imperfection?"

Zhu Wushi's countenance bore a slight solemnity, never underestimating the Grandmasters of the Worship Palace. Their ability to overshadow the entire martial world undoubtedly held merit.

Besides the formidable reputation of the Great Ming, the prowess of the five Grandmasters was unquestionable.

Had it not been for a fortuitous deception just now, attempting to engulf both of them in one breath wouldn't have been so facile.

Of course, once ensnared, no one would intervene.

These two Grandmasters could only await their demise.

Upon the hilltop, Huang Dao sat cross-legged on the ground, hands moving rhythmically, fingers plucking and producing waves of sound akin to the vibrations of strings on a zither.

With each pluck, a qi blade composed of musical and conceptual resonance soared forth.

One blade.

Two blades.

Three blades.

Ten blades.

Hundreds of blades.

The densely packed qi blades, akin to a tempestuous onslaught, surged toward Zhu Wushi.