The Cold Moon Blade rose.
A chilling murderous aura erupted like a storm, enveloping Yang Ge as if it were tangible.
The sky suddenly filled with dark clouds, oppressively heavy, making it difficult to breathe.
Even the scattered weapons on the nearby ships were drawn by this strong, pure killing intent, seemingly ready to take flight again...
As they say, it was late when spoken, but happened quickly.
From the moment Yang Ge raised the Cold Moon Blade to begin the skill cast, to the failure of the elder in the purple robe's attempt to negotiate a threat, it was but a mere five or six breaths of time.
The elder in the purple robe was also extremely decisive. Seeing that Yang Ge was determined to follow through to the bitter end, he didn't wait for Yang Ge to finish charging and bravely struck out.
He leapt up from the bow of the boat, conjuring in midair a gigantic tiger-like creature as big as the ship itself, its fierce black winds enveloping Yang Ge...
"Bang!"
