Boom!
The snowflakes above the bridge all frenziedly danced, surging forward with the temple sword.
In the flurry of snow, Chen Changsheng could only see a wall of white before him.
He couldn't see anything, only sense the frightening power of the sword behind the fog of snow.
He felt like he had entered an illusion, confronting not Xu Yourong's sword, but an avalanche.
The snow and ice that had accumulated for thousands of years on the southern face of Holy Maiden Peak suddenly collapsed and, with the rumbling of snow, surged towards him.
No matter how exquisite his swordplay, would it be able to pierce through this collapsing mountain face?
……
……
The two banks of the Luo River were very quiet.
The great ship was even more so, pervaded with an eerie silence.
Both Mao Qiuyu and Linghai Zhiwang said nothing.
Tang Thirty-Six's fists were clenched tightly, but he still could not prevent himself from shaking.
