The voice sounded aged and rather ordinary. It did not shout; it merely uttered an ordinary sentence in a normal tone, yet even though it seemed to echo from an extremely distant place, every word reached Luo Chen's ears with perfect clarity.

Suddenly, a thought flashed through Luo Chen's mind. It was a divine consciousness voice transmission! Across a distance of many hundreds of li, and not even a focused or targeted transmission! How powerful was the divine soul foundation required to make it sound so clear?

Luo Chen swallowed hard and steadied his mind. Then, with a sharp shake of his head, he looked up once more. Within his dim gaze, he seemed to glimpse another scene beneath the endless thunderclouds.

A young Daoist—presumably, the Whitebone Dark Serpent—sat upon a chariot carved of bone, wearing a robe adorned...