Chapter Eighty: The Final Trial

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The Ghost Claw Sovereign, though possessing the fourth level of divine sovereignty, could only wield the strength of an ordinary fifth-level divine sovereign. Li San’s words now were like a fresh, bloody wound slashed across his pride.
“As the current situation stands, in some sense, the Hua Xia Pantheon could be considered our allies… Banazar has already forged a pact with them; these friends may prove useful,” Asmodeus remarked coolly.
Many old ministers, wary of Xu Zhen’s thunderous might, saw the surviving soldiers with shattered bones and bodies torn by shrapnel and stone fragments, and fear took root in their hearts. Reluctant to fight further, they concurred with Lu Dongzan’s petition.
The Earl of Valor’s mansion, ravaged by Marquis Po Lu’s rampage of fire and slaughter, was hastily restored but still bore an air of desolation. The servants were all unfamiliar faces, but fortunately, Zhang Suling and Mo Ya had been wandering elsewhere, otherwise they might not have escaped harm.
The four royal families and their thirty-six noble houses ruled vast domains in the Hundred Realms, their power formidable, but they were not invincible. Strong enemies lurked in the distance, and none wished to exhaust themselves for a demon seed. If matters could be resolved this way, it was all the better.
The sinister black shadow, seeing this, flashed a trace of terror in its blood-red eyes. If the “Ancient Bodhi Tree” truly risked its damaged bloodline to kill it, it would have no power to resist with its current strength.
Suddenly, the conference room doors were violently kicked open with a thunderous crash, and an elderly figure strode in before everyone’s eyes.
When Xu Zhen arrived at the foot of Songzhou City, he pulled his horse to a halt, unfastened the Tang banner from his back, waved it three times, and then called out with full vigor.
The Xue Family soldiers fired a volley from their rifles, forcing Mao Youde’s cavalry back. Over a hundred East River Army guards were killed or wounded. Chaos erupted in the East River ranks—some soldiers advanced, others retreated, and their formation fell into disarray.
Jian Ning sat on her bed for a long while before chasing after him, only to find the door closed. Not a trace of Gu Jingchen remained, save for the lingering taste on her lips that reminded her of what had transpired.
“Of course it’s your fault. You spend so little time with me because you’re always fooling around with Diana!” Agatha complained.
Hua Erbo didn’t reply, but walked back slowly. Passing by Fairy Xiao, he took Zinuo from her arms and tossed him to Lin Hai.

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As the conversation continued, the voices gradually faded from Long Tian and his companions’ ears.
The sudden noise startled Kuiyuan, who bumped into the corner of the table and fled the kitchen in disarray.
Listening to Mo Yan’s words, Long Tian’s doubts deepened. Who exactly was the person Mo Yan mentioned? What past grievances lay between them? And what was the “end point” Mo Yan spoke of, and how was it different from the other’s?
Calming himself, Chen Feng apologized to Xiao Mantian for his earlier attitude. He still needed help, and hoped his minor insolence wouldn’t cost him that favor.
Gu Jingchen’s gaze lingered on the photo of Jian Ning. Nine years ago, both he and she were so young and innocent. Whether it was the later “Jian Ning” or Mo Ran, similar faces and temperaments always reminded him of her.
After all, they were holy-level warriors. The two water dragons surged with tremendous force, roaring as pure elemental energy coursed within. If Zhang Tianyang were struck, he would be utterly obliterated.
“Hey! What are you talking about?” came the loud reply from across the way, thick with a local accent.
After speaking, Lin Yong walked slowly to a nearby platform. He gently touched the dry wooden board and then placed Zhuang Wen upon it.
“Meteor is about to unleash his true finishing move, and the Doom Knight will wield the real power of the Spear of Fate. Earlier, they were only testing each other with afterimages in midair,” Qing Luo commented, watching the scene before her.
Song Feifei was crying again. After only three meetings with Chen Xu, she never expected his presence would linger in her mind, unable to be dismissed.
Liu Yun was momentarily stunned. He hadn’t expected—or perhaps had long expected—Powder Rouge to say such words.
When they returned to the Earth God Temple, it was already the fifth watch of the night. There were two large new buildings on the east side, clearly returned by the City God, now conveniently used to house strong men—or rather, bailiffs.

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“What’s wrong? Sister Zhao, is there something else?” Fang Ziqiang stopped, puzzled.
“Wow, that’s a lot!” Kaier, after days of hardship, was suddenly energized.
“The Demon Temple has been dormant for too long—perhaps the martial world has forgotten us. It’s time to make our presence known,” Mu He finished and instructed Ancestor Wentian, “Let’s settle the matter at Luoxia Manor today.”
The smell of cigars was fading in the air. Lin Yong grew anxious, clenching his fists. Was his only option to force his way in?
Wang Shen’s mood surged, and suddenly a hot nosebleed dripped onto the map.
Thus, Fujiki tried to grant Nine Tails her strongest form, pressing the attack. His Roserade was built for endurance, but prolonging the battle actually put him at a disadvantage.
Otherwise, with Xing Tian the Great Shaman wandering outside, how could the Demon Clan stand idly by? The Xuan and Shi sects would never be indifferent. Now, it was the domain of the holy ones—the glory of the old Shaman Clan was gone.
So at this moment, Long Fei must choose one of the four ninja arts as his most frequently used and most helpful skill, one he could still wield even after becoming a Kage-level ninja.
“Rise!” The ground beneath the injured disciples swelled, and like waves, swept them all back.
Yet she still had two sons to care for, and a missing father to search for. How could she refuse Su Yunliang’s kindness for the sake of hesitation?