After the Artifact Spirit's swaying, Ping finally produced some lazy movements.
And even those movements seemed somewhat perfunctory.
Mist suddenly spewed from the bottle's mouth, and moments later, a cloud of mist emerged and hovered within the Sea of Consciousness.
And then, there was nothing else.
"Really, is that it?"
Han Yu was dumbfounded. What use could such a puff of mist serve?
The Artifact Spirit was also dumbfounded. I mean, with such intense fighting outside, what use is a little mist?
Xin Zui, Xinyin, and Wuyin each had their own thoughts. Every move they made hinted at covert struggles.
Though beneficial for Han Yu, as the power of the three parties intensified, Han Yu found himself suffering in the midst of it.
The Light Fixing Skill, now more than mere tracking, sliced through like a sharp blade, aimed to destroy him.
Xinyin's Star Plucking Hand was no longer uncertain; a giant azure hand extended out, continually slapping down at Han Yu like a ball.
