Since he had executed Ren Ningning, Jiang Jian, and the others, practically no one dared to block Fang Yang's path.
Indeed, the combat prowess he had displayed that day was nothing short of terrifying.
A fine drizzle drifted down.
A watery mist rose through the clouds, obscuring all sight.
Fang Yang sat cross-legged atop the silver Sword Flood Dragon's head, heading straight for Sky-Reaching Peak.
CRACK—
A flash of light streaked across the dim, gray sky, followed by a peal of thunder.
The next moment, bolts of lightning shot across the sky, dancing like silver serpents in a stunning, dazzling display that unleashed a deafening roar.
Along with the storm came two streaks of light—one cyan, one purple.
The cyan streak of light revealed a woman clad in cyan robes, her face hidden behind a veil.
The pure, righteous aura surrounding her indicated she was a cultivator from a prestigious, orthodox sect.
