Xie Tian had noticed Bai Zhi long ago, but he didn't have time to deal with it. After the Xuanyuan Stele fused, he submerged his mind into the Xuanyuan Stele within him.
The Xuanyuan Stele, merged with the army soul of the Xie Army, fell into Xie Tian's sea of consciousness, emanating an endless aura of blood and iron.
A small golden figure stood with hands behind its back in front of the stele, observing quietly.
Compared to before, the Xuanyuan Stele had undergone significant changes.
The broken stele, now completely renewed, with jagged edges as if hacked by countless blades, bore the figure of a person.
That person was Xie Tian.
And the figure was composed of 1,300 lines.
The small golden figure pondered for a moment, then split off a wisp of soul to enter the Xuanyuan Stele.
Upon entering, he immediately sensed 1,300 thoughts.
Vaguely, Xie Tian had the feeling that he was everything to these 1,300 people. He needed no military orders or words to command each one.
