Yellow sand—yellow sand filled the sky.
Ou Yangming's voice was not loud, but it became the only sound in the area, suppressing the whimpering of the winds.
The land was silent. Everyone looked up at the white-robed young man in the sky. At this moment, he was a God-favored one and also a Daoist disciple. He was a mountain that stood in the hearts of the younger generation of cultivators, one that could crush a generation.
At this time, the brilliance in Jiang Yingrong's eyes had reached its peak. She thought to herself, 'This is what a man should be like, and this is what a cultivator should be like. For the sake of Lil' Man, he didn't hesitate to fight against a Daoist disciple and even suppressed his opponent's light."
Zang Jian's face was filled with bitterness, and his expression was complicated. The image of Ou Yangming standing in mid-air was in his mind and no matter how hard he tried, he could not get it out of his mind.
