Duan Leiren looked at the two of them and did not continue speaking.
There was not much strength left in his body. If Lin Qingxuan had not pulled him from the precipice of death, his divine soul might have already dissipated.
Before that, what kept him alive was nothing more than willpower and the obsession in his heart.
A few seconds later, dark clouds covered the ruins of the Zhenlei Sect, and the Crazed Thousand Poisons Formation seemed to have been split in half by something.
Countless footsteps shook the ground, and it seemed like an army was bearing down on them.
Soon, Ye Chen noticed dozens of figures enter his field of vision.
The leader was a long-haired young man who was dressed in a white robe. On his back, he carried a sword, which was wrapped in torn cloth and gave off a mysterious aura.
Furthermore, the long-haired young man was actually riding a red python that was more than ten meters long.
