The northern winds cried...
At this moment, the golden sword-light slowly contracted, turning into a streak of golden light that once again imprinted itself on the back of Ou Yangming's hand. It transformed into the image of a small sword.
It was like a birthmark from birth, and it was extremely strange.
Ou Yangming stretched out his left hand and touched it. There was no difference at all. He thought to himself, 'Looks like I have to hurry up and find the Mount Return Sword.'.
The training field was in a mess. Broken walls and gravel were everywhere.
Ou Yangming took half a step forward and placed his long spear on the ground. He sneered and said, "Not bad, interesting. I thought I could defeat you with the Blazing Fire Cold Cicada, but I didn't expect the Bloodline Power of the Blood Dragon Clan to be so powerful." He shook his head, and his eyes were sharp.
