An Cang's sword strike, mounted on a dragon, was the most powerful display the three could muster; for An Cang himself, it nearly burned through his entire body. This sword strike's finality required no explanation.
The cold light that horizontally pulled across the black robe stopped abruptly; such a ferocious blade technique was controlled so effortlessly in his hands that Li Weiru narrowly escaped a dire fate as if dodging from the brink of the underworld. The blade may have been retracted, but the Mysterious Qi still poured out; the elder's body, although desperately evading, couldn't even maintain its posture, falling like a bird with clipped wings in a tempest.
Wudong, seeing the elder still tumble yet not separate from the battle, made a downward pressing motion with an indifferent glance; a flip of his palm, and [Jade Tiger] screeched as it pulled back, while he himself already leapt ahead to meet the approach.
An Cang's Sword of Thunder arrived just at this moment.
