Jing Wuhen

In the Province of the Nine Skies, far above the heavens, there exists Nine Galaxies of Astral Rivers made up of countless constellations interwoven together. For Martial Cultivators, they could form an innate link with one of the constellations, awaken their Astral Soul, and transform into a Stellar Martial Cultivator.

Legend has it that, the strongest cultivators in the Province of the Nine Skies, were beings that could open an astral gate every time they advanced into a new realm. Their talent in cultivation was such that they could even establish innate links with constellations that existed in a layer higher than the Nine Layers of Heavens, eventually transforming into the heaven-defying and earth-shattering power known as the War God of the Nine Heavens.

Qin Wentian is the MC of this story. How could a guy, with a broken set of meridians, successfully cultivate? There were countless Stellar Martial Cultivators, as there were countless constellations in the vast starry skies. What he wanted to be, was the brightest constellation of all, shining dazzlingly in the vast starry skies. 

Ancient Godly Monarch

Lordbluefire

Luoshen Yu inclined his head, coldly staring at everyone. However, the current him clearly was of no threat. The eyes of those people who just barged in were all staring at Qin Wentian.

Qin Wentian didn't expect the news of his arrival would circulate so quickly. He didn't cast a glance at these people and continued quietly sitting in front of Luoshen Yu. Only Little Rascal who was on his shoulder inclined his head to survey these experts from the Luoshen Clan.

"You are Qin Yuanfeng's son, Qin Wentian?" One of the experts spoke. Qin Wentian's back was facing that person, as he replied, "Is something the matter?"

These people barged in with extreme rudeness. He naturally didn't see the need to be polite to them.

Seeing that Qin Wentian refused to even turn his head, a world overlord coldly laughed. "Indeed, you are as arrogant as he was back then, having no one in your eyes. As expected, like father like son."

A Beam of Sword Light Creates Chills