Chapter: 4782

"Hehe, the standard? How can the standard of the Nine Heavens God Thunder be judged by common sense?" Someone sneered: "If it were a different kind of thunder calamity, Immortal Hanyang would have opened the way to heaven and ascended to the immortal world long ago!"

"Immortal Hanyang, he, he, can he still perform miracles like before?"

Among the crowd, there were quite a few women who stared at the land of the Nine Heavens Divine Thunder, and from their nympho state, one could tell that they were people who admired the Immortal Monarch Hanyang.

Strong men have always been liked by many women.

It's a pity that Xianjun Hanyang belongs to the kind of character who can't see the end of the dragon. He travels around the world, and it's rare to see him on weekdays.

"There is no movement!"

"Has Zhang Hanyang fallen?"

"Yes, it has fallen. A generation of myths will eventually come to an end. It's sad and lamentable."

There were tens of thousands of Ninth Level Crossing Tribulations present, and they all felt the horror of Thunder Tribulation when they saw this scene.

"Man conquers nature? It's just a joke!"

"Wait, the thunder calamity is surging again, and it hasn't dissipated yet, and Immortal Hanyang has not fallen!"

"Yes! I saw it, there was breath there, and he came back to life! My God, is Immortal Hanyang trying to create a myth in the world of cultivating immortals?"

"Boom!"

The overwhelming thunderclouds are surging, and there is an astonishing brilliance inside. The thunderstorm is still brewing.

"Why am I here?"

Zhang Han fully recovered his consciousness.

Looking left and right, he looked confused.

"What's the meaning?"

"A dream of yellow beams?"

"Could it be that my return to Earth is just a dream? No, no, no! This is impossible!"

"Zi Yan, Mengmeng, dad, mom, grandpa, no!"

"Absolutely impossible!"

After Zhang Han regained consciousness, his heart was piercingly cold, and his eyes filled with madness.

Why is this so?

reality? illusory?

"Nothing is Impossible."

Suddenly, a voice sounded in Zhang Han's mind.

The voice was melodious, the gentle voice of a man, but it made people feel extremely deserted, like a machine without any emotion.

"Who are you? Who are you?"

Zhang Han's face gradually turned pale, and he looked at the thunderclouds in the sky.