"Hahaha..."
Yang Ge, covering his face, laughed maniacally as the Sword Dragon of blades spiraled upward from behind him. As it rotated, countless broken swords and remnants collided, producing a dense, crisp sound of metal clashing, much like hundreds of wind chimes swaying simultaneously.
However, this crisp and pleasant sound to Yang Ge's ears fell upon the ears of the Dongying soldiers surging on the ground below, eliciting a chilling fear that sent their souls fleeing, desperately pushing away in every direction, striving to distance themselves from this blood-drenched, fiercely demonic figure.
Amidst the encirclement of thousands of Dongying troops, Yang Ge stood unfazed, laughing breathlessly, gasping for air.
He slowly lifted the trembling Cold Moon Blade in his hand, gently patting its sleek, mirror-like, shiny blade, and cursed playfully, "You little rascal, this is the last time, alright? Once home, you must behave!"
