A slight breeze blew over.
A body fell to the ground, turning into a pile of rotten meat.
Just one hit, and the seventh-level Qi Refining cultivator, Gou Sheng, was killed, his death tragic and miserable.
On the spot.
Seeing this scene, Zhang Jing's gaze sharpened.
To his surprise, he sensed the existence of Taoism Rhyme in this man's attack.
Through this piece of Taoism Rhyme, he imagined seeing a monstrous crow, its feathers and flesh all rotten, emitting an overwhelmingly rotten aura.
Opposite him.
The grey-clothed man took a moment to regain his composure before turning his eyes onto Zhang Jing.
"Kid, your senior brother is dead now, isn't it about time you hand over the Blood Mill? Nevermind, I'll just take it myself."
With that being said, he moved directly towards Zhang Jing, his body once again radiating a powerful surge of spiritual energy.
A bone sword appeared abruptly in his hand.
"Yes, my senior brother is dead, you are now useless to me."
