Qin Yansong's eyes trembled, his fists clenched tightly. He raised his head to look at the lightning-stricken sky and closed his eyes after a long pause. "The day of the ritual has finally arrived… God is reminding me."
What was meant to come has inevitably come.
Outside the Millennium Altar, a massive crowd surrounded the area, each person holding feathered arrows with their tips pointed directly forward.
At the center of the crowd stood a man in black, handsome and tall, his figure towering and lanky. He held his hands behind his back, his expression calm and indifferent as he gazed at the highest point of the Divine Altar.
There, suspended in midair by electromagnetic forces, was a vine-handled short sword. Its blade was carved with ancient divine beasts, symbolizing a power both mysterious and supreme.
An aged, weathered figure suddenly appeared at the base of the altar.
