Drip!
Drip!
Blood dripped down drop by drop and gathered in a pool on the ground. The crisp sound was ear-piercing in the silent environment.
Mo Yang retreated some distance.
Clutching his broken arm with his hand, his face contorted.
Other than the first scream, he did not make another sound. The pain in his arm was suppressed by him.
In fact, as a late-stage Essence Soul cultivator, it wasn't that difficult for him to accept losing an arm.
It was the strength of the person in front of him that he found hard to accept.
No matter how he looked at Jiang Lan, he was only an early-stage Essence Soul cultivator.
Where did the other party get the strength to crush his arm in an instant?
He had even calmly asked him if his arm was still sore…
"Junior Brother seems to do such a thing very often."
Mo Yang forced a smile to maintain his composure.
This would calm him down.
