When Wuya recalled a scene from many years ago in her old age, she still marveled at it.
That sword was the fastest and most dazzling one she had ever seen in her life, the sword that births sword flowers, as if adorning the entire world, yet it carried a silent breath that withered life.
Whoosh, a sword broke through the air, and Ye Ling's figure appeared behind the Poison Sovereign, breathing heavily. Inside him, over half of the power from his nine Divine Infants was depleted.
The depletion of over half of the power from the nine Divine Infants was terrifying. A common Divine Infant Middle Stage warrior could never unleash such a horrifying sword strike.
The Poison Sovereign standing behind Ye Ling widened his eyes, his pupils filled with incredulity as he lowered his head to see a terrifying and horrifying wound slowly splitting open on his chest.
Blood dripped onto the rocks, pitter-patter, the Poison Sovereign felt his breath weakening.
