Warning! A hidden dragon has emerged!

Their divine senses had already covered the entire banquet hall, and they heard every word of Muhammad's conversation. They didn't take Muhammad and the entire Persian Ming Cult seriously at all.

"To avoid any unforeseen complications, let's act immediately!"

Although Yang Zhentian was arrogant, he also knew that this was his pledge of allegiance to the White Eagle Alliance, and he had to finish the battle quickly without any mistakes.

"yes!"

The three elders responded in unison.

As their spiritual power erupted, the four figures shot down towards the banquet hall like arrows, accompanied by the sound of air being torn apart.

Before the security personnel in the banquet hall could even react, Yang Zhentian had already landed and rushed straight to Mu Han, his eyes cold and without uttering a single word.

"Old man, I'll borrow your head for a bit!"

Before he could finish speaking, a cold glint flashed.

Yang Zhentian swung his longsword with incredible speed, so fast that Mu Han didn't even have time to show a look of terror, so fast that he didn't see the newcomer's face clearly, nor did he feel a trace of pain.

puff!

A head flew high into the air, gushing blood that splattered all around.

Muhammad's headless body lay stiffly on the ground, his eyes wide open, unable to close in death.

"what!"

The screams shattered the tranquility of the banquet hall, terrifying the revelers who scattered in all directions, turning the scene into chaos in an instant.

Thus began a one-sided massacre.

The gap between a Golden Core Realm expert and an ordinary martial artist or mortal is like an insurmountable chasm.

Yang Zhentian and the three elders were ruthless in their attacks; wherever their spiritual power passed, no one could stop them.

They would either be killed by a sword to the throat, have their bodies shattered by spiritual power, or be torn apart.

Screams, pleas for mercy, and the sounds of swords piercing flesh mingled together. In less than a minute, all the high-ranking members and core subordinates of the Ming Cult in the banquet hall were slaughtered.

Blood flowed like rivers, corpses littered the fields, and the pungent stench of blood permeated the air, making people nauseous.

The once luxurious banquet hall was instantly transformed into a living hell.

Yang Zhentian held Muhan's head in his hand, standing amidst the mountain of corpses and sea of ​​blood, his eyes showing no emotion, but rather a hint of excitement.

Suddenly, he opened his blood-red maw wide and inhaled deeply into the corpse on the ground and the stench of blood that filled the air.

Whoosh!

A faint red aura of blood and a weak spiritual force emanated from the corpse and were all absorbed into Yang Zhentian's body.

"Comfortable!"

As Yang Zhentian felt the surge of spiritual power within his body, a smug smile appeared on his lips.

"My cultivation has recovered by another ten percent!"

He was extremely satisfied with this method of absorbing blood essence and restoring his cultivation level through soul absorption.

At this rate, he will be able to fully recover his peak strength in less than half a month. Then, he can find a suitable body and re-form a clone to dominate Flowing Gold Valley.

He then pulled out dozens of time bombs from his pocket, skillfully installed them in various corners of the banquet hall, and set the detonation time.

Having done all this, he didn't linger at all. He grabbed Muhammad's head and cell phone, and with the three elders, quickly disappeared into the night.

Bang bang bang!

Not long after the group left, a series of violent explosions rang out, flames shot into the sky, and deafening sounds echoed throughout the entire Golden Valley.

The banquet hall was instantly razed to the ground, and all the buildings and vegetation within a 30-meter radius were reduced to dust, leaving only a charred ruin.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack! Level One combat alert!"

In the command center not far from the banquet hall, a piercing alarm blared wildly. Everyone was on high alert, their hands trembling as they typed, their faces ashen.

"Everyone assemble! Rush to the banquet hall for rescue!"

Orders were issued swiftly, and the Ming Cult leaders and followers in Liujin Valley rushed to the scene as quickly as possible, their faces filled with fear and unease.

When everyone arrived at the scene, seeing the banquet hall reduced to ruins and utterly silent, they froze on the spot, their hearts feeling as if gripped tightly by an invisible hand, their bodies turning cold, and even their breathing stopping.

It's over, it's over!

A desperate thought arose in everyone's mind.

With such terrifying explosive power, there was absolutely no chance of survival for anyone inside the banquet hall.

"What are you all standing there for? Hurry up and save them!"

Suddenly, someone shouted, breaking the deathly silence.

Everyone present snapped out of their daze and rushed into the ruins like madmen, digging with their hands and hoes, not daring to stop even when their hands were bleeding from the rubble.

But their efforts were nothing more than a drop in the ocean in the face of the endless ruins.

The rescue work finally began to improve only after large-scale rescue equipment arrived.

The next morning, rescuers cleared out 120 mutilated bodies from the rubble.

One of the headless corpses, judging from its physical characteristics and clothing style, was none other than the old leader of the Persian Ming Cult, Muhammad.

"Everyone, listen up! No information is to be leaked!"

Little Muhammad knelt beside the corpse, his eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse, struggling to suppress the grief and anger in his heart.

"Collect body samples immediately and conduct DNA testing. I need to confirm the deceased's identity as quickly as possible!"

As a son, he recognized the corpse as his father at a glance.

But he couldn't believe it, couldn't accept this fact, and couldn't explain it to his millions of followers.

To be on the safe side, he had to confirm the final result in the most precise way.

"Notify all high-ranking members, branches, and halls of the Ming Cult, as well as our intelligence network!"

Little Muhan suddenly looked up, his eyes bloodshot.

"I need to find out all the information about the murderer within half an hour. No matter who he is, no matter what forces are behind him, I will make him pay a bloody price!"

"Please rest assured, Young Master, I guarantee I will complete the mission!"

The subordinates echoed in unison, their tone firm, their eyes filled with anger.

10 a.m.

The Persian Ming Cult completely blocked all news, causing widespread panic within the cult.

Some people were filled with righteous indignation because of the attack on the old leader and vowed to avenge him.

Some, however, harbored ulterior motives and secretly plotted how to seize power and take over.

The entire Persian Ming Cult was rife with undercurrents and fraught with danger.

However, just as the Ming Cult was in chaos, the White Eagle Alliance openly jumped out and caused trouble.

A temporary podium was set up in front of the White Eagle Alliance Octagon building, with five-meter-high bulletproof glass protecting it completely.

Thurman, dressed in a sharp suit and wearing a baseball cap, stood confidently behind the podium. To his left was a square wooden box that caught his eye.

Below the stage, a dense crowd of media reporters were packed together, all pointing their cameras and microphones at the podium, flashes going off incessantly.

"Dear friends from the media, hello everyone!"

Trent picked up the microphone, his voice booming and resonating throughout the room.

"I'm holding this press conference today for only one purpose: to expose the evil deeds of the Persian Ming Cult!"

He paused, his eyes sharpening, his tone hardening.

"The Persian Ming Cult is maliciously manipulating oil prices and inflating commodity prices, and has even openly issued death threats against our White Eagle Alliance's base. Since they don't know what's good for them, then sorry, this alliance leader isn't made of clay!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he suddenly reached out and opened the wooden box beside him.

A head with a ferocious expression and wide-open eyes lay quietly in the wooden box; it was the head of Muhammad, the old leader of the Persian Ming Cult.