Nangong Qi's face was pale, his body trembling slightly, and the clothes on his back soaked with cold sweat. It had been too close—almost skimming past the God of Death...
The disciples of Piaomiao Palace were also full of lingering fear.
"Nangong Qi! Hand over the Dragon Corpse now!" Niu Xiangnan's shouting voice came from a distance, "Give up the Dragon Corpse, and you will be spared!"
"Give your mother!" Nangong Qi cursed aloud, "Didn't you see the Dragon Corpse has already flown away?"
"Fly your ancestor!" Niu Xiangnan cursed back, "The Dragon Corpse is right behind you, yet you say it's flown away. That's outright lying with your eyes open! Shameless!"
"What? Behind me?" Nangong Qi turned around to look, "Damn it! When did you guys get here?" Not far behind him floated a Bronze Coffin and a Dragon Corpse.
"Vice Palace Master, what should we do?" one of his subordinates asked anxiously, "The enemy will catch up soon, and without the flying ship, we simply can't escape."
