Yang Zhen had never fought with anyone from the External Cultivation Sect before, but it didn't matter who he fought. He just went ahead and rushed in.
Seeing Yang Zhen lunge towards him, a smirk of disdain flashed across the practitioner's face. His figure wobbled, disappearing from his original position like a long snake. His entire figure was twisted as if space was folding, perfectly avoiding Yang Zhen's kick. He rolled over and jabbed towards Yang Zhen.
The practitioner's weapon from the External Cultivation Sect looked like a snake sting, carrying an eerie, chilling light. It appeared extraordinary and was also shrouded in a vile aura, as if it had been acquired from a remarkably cold place.
Such a weapon was deadly. An ordinary practitioner would be eroded by the Spirit Soul after being wounded, and would be paralyzed all over, incapable of moving.
Yang Zhen kicked out, his strength unabated and without generating additional force, he was in mid-air with no leverage.
