You Aren't Sincere In Thanking Me...

Boom, boom, boom!

A terrifying explosion erupted in the sky. The sword and blade consciouses caused a catastrophe in the sky, almost cutting the sky into numerous segments.

The clouds hanging in the sky split into multiple fragments, breaking into pieces as if a child was fiddling with them.

Boom!

Kipling smashed into the ground. His skin was covered with wounds, and he kept vomiting blood. He was in a miserable state.

In the sky, Wang Teng stopped after being pushed back a few meters by the residual force.

Great Sage Kipling… lost!

Gasp!

There was a huge commotion. No one could believe this result.

"Your Highness, we won?" asked Great Sage Fara in disbelief.

Alais took a deep breath and muttered to herself, "No wonder he was in the Holy Temple's prophecy."

"The Holy Temple's prophecy!" Great Sage Fara's eyes widened in shock as if he had heard something unbelievable. He was stunned.