The job change is a bizarre and calamity; the nation begs me to tone it down.

light.

The light was so bright that it was impossible to open one's eyes.

All the saints present raised their hands to block their view in unison, but even through their respective protective domains, the light still penetrated everything.

It was as if someone had stuffed the sun into their eye sockets.

The aftershocks of the explosion lasted for a long time.

Or rather, it felt like it had been a long time.

In reality, it might only take a dozen seconds.

But in those ten seconds, everyone felt like the world was about to fall apart.

After an unknown amount of time, the light began to gradually fade away.

The remaining fragments of energy in the air were still crackling and popping.

The shattered clouds in the sky lingered, unable to close up.

The cracks in the ground are still slowly expanding.

The saints lowered their hands that were blocking their way.

Then they saw it.

three people.

No, that's not right—there are three figures.

Stand about two kilometers in front of the defensive line, with your back to them and facing north.

The one right in the middle is a burly man.

He was extremely burly, with shoulders as broad as a city wall.

But he only has one arm.

The right arm was severed at the shoulder, and the scar at the break was old and whitish, as if it had been there a long time ago.

He held a shield in his left hand.

The shield has an ancient design, and most of the patterns engraved on its surface have been worn away, but the remaining parts still reveal a coiled blue dragon.

He was wearing a gray suit of armor, which was rusted in many places.

Some of the nail plates were missing, revealing the patched-up lining underneath.

But this seemingly ragged, one-armed man exuded an aura of power when he stood there—

This caused dozens of saints to hold their breath simultaneously.

To his left stood a woman.

She looks very young, in her early twenties.

But her youth and her equipment created an extremely incongruous contrast.

She wore a tattered red armor, the plates of which were covered with cracks and scorch marks. There was a shocking, piercing scar on her chest, and the armor plates around the wound were completely shattered.

You can see a layer of dark lines remaining on the skin underneath.

Her long hair was loose, blowing backward in the wind, her face expressionless, but her eyes—

It was as cold as a knife.

In addition, she was holding a long spear in her hand.

The gun body was dark red all over, seemingly made of some special material.

The tip of the spear had no light; in fact, it looked somewhat dim.

But as the wind swept past the tip of the gun, the air emitted a faint, mournful sound.

To the right of the burly man stood a third person.

The man was wearing a gray-white robe with the hood pulled low, obscuring his face.

He was rather thin and almost a head shorter than the burly man next to him.

With his hands tucked into his sleeves, he stood casually as if he were waiting for someone on the roadside.

But the aura emanating from him sent a chill down the spine of even the most obtuse saint present.

Three people, three auras, but each one was ridiculously strong.

Demi god!

And not just any ordinary demigod.

It's the kind of path that has already reached the end of the road to demigodhood.

One more step forward and you'll be at the Origin level—a peak demigod.

The moment they saw the three figures, all the saints felt a tremor in their hearts.

Lu Xingchen's gaze was fixed on the back of the one-armed strong man in the middle.

My lips were trembling uncontrollably.

Of course, it wasn't because of fear.

It's because he recognized him.

I recognized the shield.

I recognized the style of the gray armor... and the burly figure with the missing right arm.

He cannot admit his mistake.

Because of the wall directly above his desk.

There was a portrait of this person hanging there.

On the first day of their term, every new commander of the Azure Dragon Legion is made to stand in front of that portrait for three minutes.

No need to kneel, no need to bow, just stand and watch for three minutes.

Then remember, remember who this person is.

What he did.

Remember where the backbone of the Azure Dragon Legion comes from.

The first commander of the Azure Dragon Legion.

Wang Zhenyue.

"Senior Wang... Senior Wang?!"

Lu Xingchen's voice was split.

It wasn't just him.

Li Podi almost lost his grip on the Miao sword.

Because he also recognized the woman in red armor on the left.

Valkyrie, Jiang Hongyi.

In the annals of the Sherman military, this name carries the same weight as the word "Great Wall".

As for the person on the right wearing a gray-white robe, some of the saints present recognized him.

Eight hundred years ago, Wu Qiankun, a peak demigod of the Wind Spirit Plane, was slaughtered by a single man!

Without a doubt, all three of them were seniors lying in crystal coffins, clinging to life by the energy of the dragon vein.

Sherlock's trump card.

The most tragic spark of Sherlock.

They woke up.

This realization left everyone present with extremely mixed feelings.

Excited, yes.

Sadness, and more.

Because everyone knows what it means for those in the Pantheon to awaken.

It was a one-way ticket.

After this battle, they will leave.

Gone forever.

But at this moment, no one was thinking about these things, because the battle ahead did not allow them to be distracted.

Clos and Olivia were forced back several kilometers in the previous collision.

After the two giant dragons regained their footing, their vertical pupils stared intently at the three people who had suddenly appeared.

Several new cracks appeared on Kross's silver-white scales.

The blow had reopened his old chest wound.

Dark dragon blood seeped from the crevices of the scales.

Olivia's situation was similar.

His left shoulder was struck hard by some unknown force, and his entire forelimb was trembling slightly.

A demigod of the human race?

Three?

The peak?

How did it appear out of nowhere?

A flicker of doubt and annoyance flashed in Klose's vertical pupils.

But it was only a trace.

Because no matter where the other party comes from, a demigod is a demigod.

The gap between the source level and the source level cannot be bridged by numbers alone.

Three peak demigods are indeed very strong.

That attack just now did indeed cause him some trouble.

But that was more because of the surprise attack—he wasn't prepared.

If they were to face off directly, the outcome would be a foregone conclusion.

However, just as Klose was about to gather his strength again, the one-armed strongman in the middle turned around.

It's not about turning to him.

He glanced at the saints of the Divine Xia behind him.

Just one glance.

There wasn't much emotion in that glance.

But every saint whose gaze swept over him felt as if he had been punched in the chest.

It wasn't the intimidation, it was that look in their eyes—

too ripe.

That's the look a veteran gives to a younger generation.

With a mix of relief, heartache, and a sense of "thank you for your hard work."

Then, Wang Zhenyue turned to face north again, towards the two giant dragons that stretched across the sky, and the dozens of war dragons that blotted out the sun. He gripped his shield tightly with his one arm, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

Immediately afterwards, a furious roar tore through the entire northern night sky: "Who dares to defy my Divine Xia?!"