From ten miles away, Ye Ling rode Little White, a man, a sword, and a monster, embarking on a massive killing spree.
A dozen or so Mo Yun Sect disciples, in a single encounter, were slain by Ye Ling's sword, blood spurting wildly, spraying into the mid-air, the stench of blood pungent in the nostrils.
In the air, the celebratory spiritual power exploded wildly, and in Ye Ling's eyes, a grey fiendish air grew increasingly dense, filling his entire eye sockets.
The fireworks created by the spiritual power, in the blink of an eye, would be the omen of bloodshed!
Today, not a single soul of the Mo Yun Sect would be left unscathed, Ye Ling's heart was brimming with murderous intent, behind him rose a terrifying bloody tempest, today he would embark on a great massacre!
"Little White, devour that bunch of bastards for me, I'll personally slaughter these two old fools!"
