"Master Zhongliu!"
The Lord of Zimei Palace's heart palpitated, her complexion pale as paper.
At this moment, not only was the Lord of Baihu Palace's head blasted into shreds, but she also found that the eight-sided Han sword in her hand could no longer slash down.
The sword was hindered by a massive force, it was mere inches away from decapitating Li Xuan's spinal cord, but even with all her might, the lord of Zimei Palace couldn't make the sword budge even an inch closer.
She swiftly turned around, her gaze unbelievably fixed towards the south: "Are you colluding with Li Xuan?"
Li Xuan also had a surprised expression, looking back at his rear.
Within a hundred feet of him, a middle-aged man with refined features and clad in a green shirt slowly walked over from the ice-covered surface. He only has one arm.
His long sleeve fluttered, promenading at ease, as if strolling in his private garden.
