Jianyang was a major prefecture directly governed by the Divine Dynasty.
At this moment, the thick imperial aura filled the city, sweeping through the streets like an unstoppable tide.
Back when the Purple Cloud Sect’s Dao companions tried to use their aura-seeking spell, they were suppressed so heavily they needed pills to recover.
Though the disciples of the Bodhi Sect hadn’t fallen to such depths, only being able to exert about forty or fifty percent of their true strength was already considered quite good.
But normally, very few paid attention to this.
After all, everyone was suppressed by the imperial aura equally, so it was as if no one was suppressed at all.
Those who could influence the imperial aura were all big names within the Divine Dynasty—people like the Prefect of Jianyang.
Ordinary cultivators wouldn’t act rashly and bring trouble upon themselves in front of these officials.
But who was this young man before them, holding what position in the Divine Dynasty?
Why had none of them ever heard of him?
Zhīqīng’s expression was complicated.
The long staff in his hand, pressing down hard, slackened slightly.
Seizing the opportunity, the monk Zhìkōng swung the staff and knocked him aside, then grabbed the woman from the ground and threw her far away.
“...”