Snowflakes on Mount Yan were as large as mats.
Snow blanketed the heavens, falling from the firmament.
Clad in green, Ye Qinghong bit her lip, her eyes brimming with a cold, murderous intent; her Qingying Sword stood horizontally in the void.
So detached and filled with a bursting desire to kill.
Two figures, one in green, the other in white, one fluttering icy crystal wings, the other wielding a longsword.
Stood firmly in front of Fang Yang.
Blocking all the wind and snow, they looked indifferently at a group of demonic sects.
Ye Qinghong's black hair fluttered, the void behind her trembled, revealing the silhouette of a swordsman-- her dharma body.
Although her expression was cold, her earlobes were slightly red and her heart thumped loudly, as if she had committed an immense wrongdoing.
Such a state was unprecedented for her.
A swordsman should always remain absolutely calm, especially one with a Glaze Sword Heart like hers.
