Pale-white flames, flickering with a blue-green glow, appeared on Tang Jun's body. Wherever the flames illuminate, it was as if time came to a standstill. The feeling it evoked was not warmth, but rather, one of desolation and decrepitude, that time flowed by like water and left only an icy cold in the heart.
"Kill, or leave them alive?" Han Yang smiled nonchalantly. Beside him, Zhou Yuncong still did not speak, but indistinctly, black light emerged in his eyes; the sharp scent of blood caused even his fellow disciples to feel a chill down their spines.
"That, will depend on their own skill," Tang Jun said emotionlessly.
Han Yang smiled. Although he was still sustaining the World Spell of Turning Heaven's Will, he abruptly opened his mouth. Out of it flew a little black dot.
Flying into the wind, the little black dot expanded rapidly, transforming into a giant sword case. Measuring 2.7 meters and square-ish in shape, it landed quietly in front of them.
