Why do I have so many masters?

The dragon illusion shimmering in pale gold roared angrily in the void, then transformed into a stream of pale golden light, unwilling to dissipate.

The Immovable King's divine apparition also disappeared at the same time, turning into gold-red flames, rising towards the sky against the natural order, dyeing the white ring-shaped clouds into pure crimson gold. Such light spread oppositely, then unfolded wantonly across the endless sky over the wilderness.

The world flowed with gold.

Inside the golden tent.

The last trace of unwillingness disappeared from King Balman's eyes.

Wang Anfeng's breathing suddenly became rapid, his body shook slightly, nearly collapsing to one side, held up by his right hand to barely steady himself, sweat from his forehead wetting his bangs, diluting the blood.

Too taxing...

Whether breaking through head-on or exhausting all his Qi Mechanism, countering Heaven and Earth to conjure a massive fiery storm, it was too taxing for a Fifth Rank Martial Artist.

His vision was somewhat blurry.

The strength in his body was already beginning to dissipate.

A sudden chaotic noise came from ahead, Wang Anfeng lifted his gaze, observing the arrangement of the golden tent; evidently, even while marching, King Balman's indulgence hadn't diminished at all.

On the throne, an exotic beast, a fierce tiger, served as decoration.

In front of the table were gold cups for drinking.

Beside the throne were several pale-faced, terrified young women, some had already collapsed to the ground out of immense fear, the oldest one pursing her lips, standing in front of everyone, gripping the sword hilt.

The short sword's blade still pointed directly at Wang Anfeng.

Fu Minda's eyes were filled with terror, her hands trembling uncontrollably, yet she refused to relax even slightly.

Her clear eyes were fixed on the man opposite wearing a fierce masked face, emitting sharp and urgent threatening shouts like a mother wolf defending her cubs.

Though she knew, against such terrifying fighters who could charge into Wanjun, she wasn't harder than a block of tofu.

Previously, a youth from a major sect had merely pushed her, and she flew back several meters like a dandelion, but that youth was severely wounded easily by a general with a blade; let alone, the person before her surely had driven back those generals as well to reach here.

But even so, she refused to retreat a single step, holding tightly onto the only thing that could protect herself, the maids behind her, and her blood-related younger sister.

Then she suddenly heard a laugh, her body instantly tensed.

The king slayer ahead was covered in blood, traces were cast on the fierce beast-like iron mask, resembling a fearsome demon god from the legend world of death, filled with a terrifying aura, yet somehow, she felt that kind eyes held a sort of apologetic smile.

The Qin man softly uttered a sentence.

She didn't understand Qin language, and her memory wasn't good, yet somehow, in this absurd and deathly silent setting, she remembered that sentence clearly, for ten, twenty years, as if imprinted to the deepest parts of her heart and soul, never forgotten.

In the future, thirty, forty years later.

The woman, already with many offspring and poor eyesight, suddenly recalled this sentence one day, casually told it to a ranger borrowing water home, the young ranger paused, then set down the bowl, smiling as he retold it to her.

The woman, over sixty by then, shed silent tears.

Because, in the far, far past, during a charge through Wanjun, covered head to toe in blood, the king slayer, smiling spoke to those frail maidens, and to her, who was once a maiden:

"Sorry..."

"Did I scare you?"

......

At the same time, throughout the entire military camp, more than twenty thousand elite, alongside nearly the entire Parthia Jianghu's experts, all raised their heads, watching the gradually dissipating dragon illusion, staring at an absurd celestial phenomenon that shouldn't appear in winter.

No one spoke, everyone immersed in the deathly silence wrought by intense vibrations, red-gold light reflected in their eyes, and for unknown reasons, each one's killing intent and hostility slowly faded away, leaving only tranquility.

No one knew how much time passed, nor who spoke first.

"What, exactly is this..."

Wearing Parthia garments, Aton stared dull-wittedly into the far distance, as if witnessing the transformation of mythological allure, watching the dragon fade, witnessing the valiant phantom deity standing in the void, gazing at the sky that seemed suddenly transformed into a clear autumn day.

His already sluggish mind instantly lost all ability to spin, voice squeezed almost out of his throat, then turning into a panicked shout the moment it emerged.

"That...what exactly is that?"

"Dragon?! Did I see wrong?"

"Is that thing a dragon?!"

Xu Chuanjun took a deep breath; usually composed, but now his expression couldn't remain calm, raising his head to stare directly at the direction where the phenomenon appeared and disappeared, voice sounding like a murmur:

"Dragon Qi, Purple Qi, King Qi..."

"Many different names."

"After the Dragon Qi dissipates, it will backlash against the king slayer."