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Xu Zishuai felt for the great bow, gave his quiver a shake, and drew out an arrow that was pitch black all over.
He stood upright, his gaze fixed on the battlefield, pulling the great bow taught.
On the ground, the entirety of Zhao Manor had been torn into ruins by the clashing Qi flows of the two contenders.
The surging Qi and Blood rose like thick smoke, tumultuous under the moonlight, with the vague semblance of a pack of wolves charging forth, the scene startlingly intense.
Just standing on the rooftop a hundred meters away and watching, Liang Qu felt an oppressive tightness in his chest.
This was already the result of the two controlling their power, directing it towards each other—it was hard to imagine the extent of destruction if they had unleashed their full force.
