The ground beneath Zhong Wanqiang was ravaged by fierce winds, and the dust swirling around relentlessly assaulted him, making his already filthy clothes appear even more disheveled. His body leaned slightly forward, his feet continuously shifting in small movents, as if ready to charge forward at any mont.
His hands twisted uneasily in front of him, fingers intertwining, and his knuckles turning white from exertion.
The fierce wind howled past his face, yet Zhong Wanqiang refused to even blink, fearing he might miss a single mont of Yili’s presence. His eyes, like those of a ravenous wolf, surveyed Yili up and down, the sinister glint in his gaze growing ever more intense.
His Adam’s apple bobbed violently, and with each swallow, the veins in his neck stood out.
The corners of his mouth curled slightly upward into an extrely lewd grin, a grin that on his face appeared particularly nacing.
Drool slid slowly from his crooked mouth corner, dripping onto the gri-covered and dust-laden lapel of his garnt, leaving a deep stain. He frequently wiped it off with the back of his hand, yet this simple gesture did nothing to halt the continued flow of saliva.
Amidst the chaos of battle, with cries of battle and clashing weapons rising and falling around him, Zhong Wanqiang was completely lost in his filthy fantasies, with Yili becoming a re object to satisfy his sordid desires.
At this mont, Yili had a stern face, her gaze unwavering and determined.
She tightly gripped the long sword in her hand, the sword tip trembling slightly, prepared at any mont for a life-and-death contest.
She was filled with concern for the warriors of the Heroic Sakura Association, but she knew full well that at this very mont, she was no longer the martial arts world’s number one beauty who only pursued beauty and love, but rather a female disciple bearing the heavy responsibility of the Hengshan Sect.
But hearing Zhong Renwang’s vile words, Yili’s heart suddenly tightened. Though she was resolved to embrace Buddhism wholeheartedly, how could she stand idly by when her sect was in trouble? Her beautiful eyes widened, revealing resolve and determination. With a graceful wave of her hand, several golden needles shot toward Li Qiushui like teors.
The golden needles glinted under the dim light, moving with great speed, carrying Yili’s anger and urgency. Li Qiushui’s face changed dramatically, and she hurriedly moved aside to dodge them. The needles brushed against her sleeve with a "pfft" and embedded themselves into a nearby tree trunk, leaving only a small pinhole.
These pure gold needles were a gift from Shi Feiyang, and without thinking, Yili threw them out, suddenly recalling Shi Feiyang’s agile figure, nimble movents, like an eagle soaring with open wings.
mories of past tis spent with Shi Feiyang surged like waves through her heart, tears uncontrollably streaming down.
But at this mont, she couldn’t afford to imrse herself in sorrow, for the enemy’s attacks ca like a storm of wind and rain.
Xie Zhichuan brandished his long sword, the blade flashing coldly, displaying Divine Sword Manor’s ultimate skill—the "Thirteen Life-taking Swords."
His eyes were filled with hatred, his face distorted with a twisted malice.
He executed a move called "Blue Peak Slice," enveloping Yili in layers upon layers of sword shadows, like black clouds. Each shadow carried lethal threats, flashing coldly, as if ready to engulf Yili instantly. The sword wind howled, producing a "hush" sound, as if tearing through the air.
Yili’s figure moved gracefully, like a lotus swaying stubbornly in the icy wind.
She dodged left and right, her movents light and agile, cleverly avoiding Xie Zhichuan’s deadly attacks.
Just as Xie Zhichuan’s moves grew tired, Yili suddenly drew her sword. She swung the long sword in her hand, performing the Hengshan Sect’s "Cloud Mist Swordsmanship."
For a mont, sword shadows appeared like clouds and mist, elusive and unpredictable. The sword moves flowed continuously, resembling the mist swirling through the mountains, sotis thin, sotis dense, occasionally striking from unexpected angles.
The sword wind intertwined with the cold wind, producing a "swish" sound, like a silent battle. In an instant, Yili and Xie Zhichuan engaged in a fierce duel, neither yielding, quickly entering a critical stage where every move was about life and death.
However, the enemies were nurous and each possessed strong martial arts. The Hengshan Sect’s mbers gradually fell behind, with the situation growing increasingly dire.
Seizing the chaotic mont in front of the Hengshan Sect’s cave, Poison Spider Sect disciples Yang Song and Guo Dongxiang exchanged a cunning and greedy glance. With a swift kick to the ground, "whoosh," they soared into the air like two black bats poised to strike, their figures tracing eerie arcs through the sky, diving toward the two charming nuns, Liao Ran and Ruo Ran.
Their movents were quick and rapid, with their clothes fluttering loudly in the wind, carrying a wicked aura. Yang Song extended his hands, those hands dry as wood, yet his fingernails sharp and long, glinting coldly, akin to the claws of a poison spider.
He executed the "Poison Spider Capturing Hand," his hands moving swiftly, creating waves of black mist, reaching for Liao Ran’s shoulder, the mist exuding a pungent stench, seemingly able to engulf Liao Ran’s life essence in an instant.
Guo Dongxiang spun around like a black whirlwind, employing the "Spider Silk Binding Technique." Instantly, several fine yet tough black threads shot forth from his waist, aiming to entangle Ruo Ran’s waist. The threads flashed eerily in the air, and once bound, would be like being trapped in a spider’s web, difficult to break free.
Nun Chixia was taken aback, her forrly composed expression transforming into one of sheer panic, her eyes wide with worry and urgency. "Liao Ran, Ruo Ran, you two are the treasures of your master’s heart!"
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