"Lost?" Recalling the final scene, the purple-clothed girl's heart throbbed painfully, a suffocating feeling gripping her. "What about Yan? Where is he?"
"Don't worry, I didn't kill him, though he should be crippled now." Wuya sneered coldly.
"Impossible! Yan's strength is greater than yours; he couldn't be crippled!" As if recalling something, the purple-clothed girl's eyes coldly fixated on him, "How did you break our Slaying Immortals and Demons Formation?"
The scene shifted again.
The purple-clothed girl stood proudly atop the cliff, her light purple dress stained crimson with blood, her ink-black long hair loosened and draped carelessly over her slender, lean back. The fierce wind lifted her tresses, fluttering wildly, accentuating her exquisite and coldly beautiful face.
Her jet black pupils were filled with a bloodthirsty coldness as she stood silently on the mountain peak, as steady as a rock, calmly poised.
