"Swoosh! Swoosh swoosh!"
Zhou Qingchen brandished his long blades and, as the wine-red gourd descended, he slaughtered several armored alien tribe warriors.
When the long blades returned to him, he looked ahead at Zhao Yuanqi with her silver hair fluttering and her slender back standing straight as a sword, and said, "Senior Sister, you also believe that Pang Jian wouldn't be wrong, right?"
"If it weren't for Pang Jian's guidance, the people of Demon Sect, Sky Water Swamp, and that Fu Wangchen from the Desolated Terrains would still be waiting in vain inside the Mysterious Fog for a slim chance of survival."
"We would be the same."
As she spoke, Zhao Yuanqi's delicate white hand pressed down through the air.
A mountain, deep red throughout, abruptly materialized and threw itself toward several scorpion-bodied alien tribe members.
"Boom!"
The mountain fell like a real peak, crushing those alien tribesmen, who shrieked as they scrambled to flee.
