It seems that before the final battle arrives, Lan Qixiong cannot possibly advance anymore.
Ye Hanjun understood this and gazed thoughtfully at Huazhu and Aegifura.
One witch, one in prison, both progressing in the refinement of their divinity at about two or three tenths.
Their path to divine enthronement is right before them.
However, considering the speed at which the Heavenly Dao is collapsing, time is still lacking...
Pondering, Ye Hanjun frowned, suddenly glancing at the sky.
Through the flashes of lightning and thunder, at the end of the firmament, a twisted black aura seemed to be rapidly forming.
At every moment, it was absorbing the essence of sun and moon.
The natural spirit born from the vegetation and mountains no longer merged into heaven and earth, but was being drawn out bit by bit until it dissipated into nothingness.
Thus, with every breath, a region in the all heavens and myriad worlds would change from vibrant and thriving to desolate and shattered.
