Lin Chen sneered: "Even if the three tigers join forces, they are not a match for the dragon."
Cao Xuejiao and Old Wu were furious. Their achievements were above Lin Chen, yet Lin Chen looked down on them, greatly increasing their intent to kill.
Cao Xuejiao said coldly, "Lin Chen, you can use your tongue, but you can only laugh now."
"Demonic Lotus Alchemy."
"Ice Shattering Technique."
"Throne of the Phoenix."
Cao Xueqin and his three men fought simultaneously. Their martial arts shone brilliantly, exuding a magnificent atmosphere and enormous fluctuations. Wherever they passed, the sky fell apart, and the storm of destruction was like ten thousand troops.
Faced with the collective assault of these three, Lin Chen's expression grew slightly grave, as a broad river faintly emerged above his head, containing various sword meanings—one hot, one cold, one fierce, one dark, one bright.
"A rain of swords."
