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In the dark and narrow cave, a tornado seemed to rage.
The wild winds coiled around Chu Xisheng's body and also entwined his Blood Refining Light Steel Blade.
At this moment, every sweep of his blade unleashed a sharp, cyan Wind Blade that was a full ten feet long. Wherever it passed, tendons and bones snapped, and heads separated from bodies.
There were also cyan-blue lightning bolts that continuously shot out from the center of the storm.
Chu Xisheng's blood boiled with fervor, his whole being immersed in the slaughter.
The black blade in his hand harvested lives like a scythe.
The unpredictable shadow of the blade resembled a storm-petrel fluttering through a tempest, moving about freely and effortlessly.
One by one, the stalwart horse bandits helplessly fell at his feet, and Martial Cultivators of Ninth and even Eighth Rank had their throats cut by him.
Blood rained down in all directions, staining the walls of the cave red.
