Nan Lingsha withdrew her gaze.
At that moment, she saw Zhu Minglang's palm, which was covered in sword patterns emitting the light of azure blood!
She glanced again at the Sword Spirit Dragon, which had finally consumed the last bit of blood, the blood from the tiger's mouth of Wen Mengru, the Sword Master, just like the fresh blood that dripped onto the Sword Spirit when Zhu Minglang practiced his swordplay daily.
Most of the time, the man before her gave Nan Lingsha the impression of being elegantly amiable, even reserved and casual, but at this moment, Zhu Minglang's eyes seemed to blaze with flames, making it impossible to look directly at him.
The temperament he exuded underwent a tremendous change as the sword patterns spread, with a heroic aura that was sharp and unruly...
"Let's see your true self then," Nan Lingsha shook her head, indicating she had no intention of choosing any more opponents.
Since these people had all come for Zhu Minglang,
