Old Siming stared fixedly at the crystal stone radiating with flickering light, dumbfounded. “This disturbance…? No, Old Xue?!”
He looked up, intending to tell the Whale Fisher about this.
But recalling the old fellow’s earlier reaction, Old Siming’s voice caught, and a glint of intrigue flickered briefly in both the spirit turtle and Old Siming’s eyes.
The Whale Fisher would have noticed such a disturbance before, but now, his heart burned like scorched coals, leaving no room for distractions.
The formation unfolded, movement swift beyond compare in all under heaven.
Even if rain clouds blocked the way ahead, they were torn apart outright.
No mist or cloud dared near his body.
Old Siming placed the spirit turtle image above his head to ward off disaster, sparing himself from harm—meanwhile, that chatty Tu Shengyuan was drenched head to toe, looking like a complete drowned rat.
The Whale Fisher surged wildly forward, swiftly arriving at the secret realm of the Astral Observation sect.
He raised his hand like a blade, slicing straight down; in an instant, the many layers of formations enveloping the secret realm shattered like waves under a fierce cut, blooming like lotus flowers.
In a single thought, one hundred and three formations broken.