Rebirth of the Nameless Immortal God

His divine sense wouldn't respond to him properly, he couldn't manipulate atmospheric qi, and though he could access the holy type qi hidden within his inner world, when he tried to touch on the others, they inexplicably completely ignored his attempts. He suddenly understood that his cage was flimsy because it didn't need to be sturdy. This world itself was the prison!

To make matters worse, the speed at which these black figures were moving… They were definitely all dao experts!

Dozens of figures dashed for Dyon, but that was when he suddenly realized something else. Since even his soul was useless, and even with his inner world, he couldn't manipulate his own qi… Didn't that mean that they were handicapped in the same way?

Dyon's malevolent aura multiplied several times over as he held onto Little Precious tightly.

"Be careful! Don't kill the kid!"

"Hey, my qi isn't working!"

"Does it matter? There're more than 50 of us and only 1 enemy. Just focus, the informant is handling everything else."

"Why can't we kill the kid? It doesn't matter. Kill her and drag her body away. We'll hold her corpse hostage, that Unblemished whore will never know."

"HAHAHA, unblemished my ass! If she's so pure, why is the precious thing she's been guarding this whole time a kid?! She's even got a gigolo hidden away here and everything!"

"Don't be fools. The Unblemished One's power is far beyond our imagination. If it wasn't, why would we need to take such underhanded measures with the powers our backers have? Don't harm the kid, she will definitely know if we do."

Dyon's bare feet glided across the soft grass.

His expression was cold, as though he was a cornered beast protecting its cub.

50 figures swarmed him from all sides. Despite their loose lips, their actions were executed with precise professionalism. Any thoughts Dyon had of them underestimating him due to his cultivation were thrown out of the window.

If the world knew that 50 dao experts attacked a middle celestial with the utmost seriousness, it would become the Mortal Plane's greatest joke. Yet, here they were, doing exactly that.

Several sets of fists careened toward Dyon, their sharp whistling making Little Precious's earlier attempts sound like a joke.

At that moment, five pairs of golden wings sprung from Dyon's back, tearing his white silk top apart to reveal a toned torso.

Losing what she had been holding onto, the poor little girl panicked slightly, quickly crawling up in Dyon's embrace to wrap her arms around his neck. Her little face dug down, hiding behind Dyon's broad shoulder and chest.

Spreading out three meters each, Dyon's wings pierced outward, slamming into the coming fists with a metallic clanging sound.

'Ugh…' Dyon bit down on his cheeks, refusing to allow a sound to leave his lips.

His wings bent at awkward angles. Their sturdiness couldn't hold up to the body prowess of true dao experts. Though sprites had weaker bodies compared to other races, the difference of cultivation realms was far too large.

However, Dyon forcibly flexed the muscles in his wings, flicking them outward to snap the broken bones back into place. In the next instant, the only qi he seemed capable of controlling her acted once more, healing him.

Dyon shot into the skies, leaping out of the encirclement.

A strong anti-flight array bore down on him, forcing him to descend. Never had Dyon seen one actually capable of limiting his wings.

Dyon was immediately swarmed once more. The 50 black figures had suddenly lost their personalities, becoming nothing more than machines. It was as though they didn't register the oddity of Dyon's wings. While others may have been shocked, not a single one of their expressions even so much as flickered.

Attacks rained down from all sides. Dyon began to lose track of how many of his own bones had been shattered, only to be mended in an instant.

Dyon knew the truth. Had it not been because they didn't want to kill Little Precious, he would have long since died a gruesome death.

The dao realm… It represented what most cultivators strove after all their lives. Many didn't hope to transcend or even to become Higher Existences. This here… This was the root of a cultivators power.

Dyon kicked outward, grimacing as his leg snapped beneath the attack it met.

Almost instantaneously, his plant leg was assaulted. A sturdy, well timed heel collided into the side of his knee, snapping it inward.

Though Dyon couldn't send his divine sense outward, it roamed his own body freely. He could see the tendons snap and the cartilage of his knee spasm and break under itself.

His knee slipped in relation to itself. The pain was indescribable as he fell backward.

It wasn't until now Dyon truly understood just how much he relied on his divine sense. Though it was true it had been sealed before, who had he battled then? Those measly Kings and Emperors from the Valley of Geniuses? Those worthless disciples from the former Soul Rending Peak?

None of those battles pushed Dyon to his limits, none of them showed his glaring weakness: his battle experience was limited.

To Dyon, everything appeared slow to him. He could practically see his opponent's thoughts before they put them into action. Every muscle twitch, every shift of gaze, every feint, he could see through it all. He didn't need 'battle experience' because he didn't need to predict his opponent's movements, he could see them.

But, without his divine sense, this weakness was laid bare.

Dyon's thought flashed by speedily as he fell backward. His thinking speed was just as fast, it was just that he couldn't see everything as he had been able to before… He couldn't see all angles at once…

'How do I beat someone faster than my divine sense can track? Won't I have to battle The Entity in that sort of situation? … ' Dyon grit his teeth. ' … Little Precious.'