Both the cultivation techniques and the mystic artifacts in Yunxiao's hands were rare and peerless treasures in the world. However, they were mixed and not refined, and he could not chew on too many. As a result, many of them could only exert a little power.
Ding Shan's expression became serious, and the ball of light in his hand rapidly spun. It continuously condensed the power in all directions while compressing it. The colorful light became fainter and fainter, gradually turning into pure white light.
Yunxiao only saw a figure flash in front of him, and ding Shan disappeared from where he was, leaving only a terrifying white beam of sunlight in front of him.
"Nine polar sunders!"
Ding Shan's ice-cold voice transmitted over. The chill penetrated into the bone, forming a contrast with that blazing white light.
Yunxiao was shocked. The power of this move was far beyond his estimation.
