The sword light was cold.
Before the disheveled old man's palm could reach down, it seemed to be frozen by the sword light.
The old man's expression changed slightly as he changed the angle of his palm.
But for some reason, Han Muye's sword was blocking in front of him.
In a breath's time, the palm shadow transformed thousands of times, but it could not escape the sword in front of it.
The old man's expression turned solemn.
Yu Tianming's expression changed and he sat up straight.
Around them, figures landed and stared at the old man's palm.
Han Muye's sword was extremely fast. No matter how hard the old man tried to slap him, he could not succeed.
"Good sword technique!" A middle-aged Daoist wearing a green robe and a golden crown on his head said in a low voice. His eyes flickered with golden light.
Needless to say?
