As the piercingly cold wind swept toward the west with an eight-point gust, the sound of sand and stones being carried along was like the wailing of countless tortured souls.
It was under this formidable momentum that Feng Jiao, who had just been in a state of despair, now appeared like a small boat rocking perilously... even her eyes widened in disbelief.
She did not know the identity of the man before her, nor did she know what his relationship with that old man was.
What was certain, however, was that the murderous intent she had exhibited couldn't even compare to his. The difference between hers and his was like that between an ant and an elephant, utterly incomparable!
She felt as if the earth itself was shaking, and that under this sword, everything would be utterly obliterated!
And it was under this sword...
The black-clothed man, who had been cold and detached until now... had all expression suddenly freeze on his face.
