"Let's see how Meng... senior brother will respond!"
Almost forgot to "align with one's current position."
Liao Huo introspected, glanced at the purgatory illusion, and quickly shook his head.
"How to respond..."
Meng Chuan's thoughts flowed like electricity; with the rise of his realm, combat became "an art of calculation."
The sword formed from the colors of the skies slashed down, vast in scope and rapid. Unless he retreated, he would surely be struck, there were no other outcomes.
However!
"No retreat..."
Really let Chen Zhiming kite him to death?
A flash of crimson swept across his eyes, his aura grew more fierce. He inhaled with vigor, even black and white dragons rolled from his nostrils, his speed soared.
Rushing forward swiftly, with no thought of retreat, his entire body gleamed with an unusual treasure light. As he swept past, the air around him exploded like thunder, wind howling like ghosts and wolves, all barriers turning to powder in his path.
