"Who said my disciple had no chance?"
Sword cries echoed through the sky, and the vast scenery of Zhen Huang Palace fractured like a mirror dropped from great heights.
The shattered world turned into a gorgeous red plum, with petals dancing through the air, gently descending like a soft rainfall.
The hair was meticulously combed, and the sword robe was spotless. Amidst the dignified demeanor, there was a hint of frenzy in the poised expression of Mei Siren, mixed with a trace of urgency in his leisurely speech. He appeared out of thin air in the Arena!
He still had a dual saint calamity above his head, and the calamity cloud clashed and thundered at the pinnacle of the heavens, deafening the ears.
In his right hand, he wielded the Taicheng Sword, where reality and illusion intertwined, and the Sword Will roamed freely.
In his left hand was an agonized Xu Xiaoshou, his face a mix of despair and shock.
