The saber sliced through the air, producing a "sizzling" sound, as if tearing through the barrier of space. The magical gleam of the cultivators all around dimd in that instant, and it was as though the entire world consisted solely of Shi Feiyang and the deadly cold radiance in his hand.
Every cut through the air ca with this chilling sound.
The cultivator opened his mouth wide, wanting to warn his companions to be careful, but found his throat dry, unable to utter any sound. He could only watch helplessly as Shi Feiyang charged toward his companions. His eyes were filled with terror and helplessness, yet he couldn’t release any warning, rely watching helplessly as the sudden attack unfolded.
On the ground, the frost spread quickly with Shi Feiyang at its center, influenced by his powerful Inner Strength. The frost, like a living being, started from his feet and extended outward, covering the surrounding environnt, making everything around unbearably cold.
The intertwining icicles emitted a "clicking" sound, playing a chilling lody for this breathtaking slaughter.
Every clash of the icicles seed to accompany the fight, their lody cold and rciless, signaling the battle’s cruelty.
The cold wind beca ever more biting, blowing against Shi Feiyang’s clothes with a flapping sound, yet it didn’t affect his movents in the slightest. His posture was as light and resolute as a specter, charging relentlessly toward the target.
The cold wind seed to cheer him on, making his actions quicker and more precise, flitting through the battlefield like a ghost.
The cultivator’s heart was filled with despair; Shi Feiyang’s short saber struck like lightning, giving him no ti to react defensively. The short saber pierced directly into his chest.
The short saber was like the scythe of the Death God, rcilessly cutting through life, robbing the cultivator of any chance to resist.
Instantly, blood gushed from the wound, quickly turning into a mist in the cold air. The cultivator’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief, his legs giving way as he slowly fell, leaving a striking trail of blood on the ground.
Against the backdrop of frost, the bloodstain appeared especially glaring, telling the story of life’s fragility.
Seeing this, the surrounding cultivators shouted angrily, their eyes burning with the flas of hatred. Their voices echoed like the horns on the battlefield, stirring their companions’ fighting spirit, swearing to avenge their fallen fellow.
A cultivator in a black robe stood quietly.
His eyes glimred with profound light, as if he could see through the mysteries of heaven and earth.
He muttered, seemingly chanting ancient spells, each syllable filled with mysterious power.
His hands moved swiftly in the air, as if weaving an invisible net, capturing the Spiritual Qi of heaven and earth.
Suddenly, from his palm erged a dense black mist, which rapidly expanded, transforming into a giant black demon’s hand as if alive.
This demon hand seed summoned from the depths of Hell, carrying an aura of endless evil and destruction.
It clawed fiercely toward Shi Feiyang, as if it wanted to devour everything within.
The black-robed cultivator’s spellcasting actions were full of mystery and eeriness; every gesture was so precise and powerful, as if controlling the darkest forces between heaven and earth.
His Magic was like a ghost in the darkness, silently wandering in the air, carrying a sinister aura, making one shiver.
Where the demon hand passed, the air seed torn apart, producing a "zzzz" sound, as if protesting against the invasion of this evil power. Every movent of the demon hand was accompanied by this unsettling sound, as if even space trembled under its might.
Every tremor at the fingertips seed to convey endless pain and despair.
Shi Feiyang snorted coldly, remaining calm and composed. His eyes showed no ripple, as if everything was within his expectation. Facing this sudden attack, he maintained his composure.
Suddenly, he stomped down hard, and the frost on the ground exploded with a potent chill, shooting straight at the black demon hand.
The chill was like a ghost released from Hell, carrying destructive power, darting toward the threat.
The chill t the demon hand, producing a loud "boom," freezing the black demon hand instantly, scattering into countless shards of ice.
Before the chill, the demon hand appeared so fragile, like it was made of paper, easily destroyed.
Shi Feiyang seized this brief gap, his figure flashing like a black phantom, so fast that it was beyond detection, lunging towards another cultivator. The cultivator wielded a long sword, trying to fend off Shi Feiyang’s assault.
He swung the long sword, its shadow flickering, accompanied by a sound of wind, seemingly carving invisible cracks through the air.
Shi Feiyang’s movent was graceful, deftly dodging the long sword’s attack, while his right hand’s Myanmar Saber moved with montum, executing a move from the Hundred Victories Saber Technique, "Golden Dragon Claw," as swift as a gale, sharp as a razor.
In his grip, the Myanmar Saber spun rapidly, its blade blurring into a silver light screen, bringing powerful force, sweeping away the cultivator’s long sword, even tearing the air with its edge.
Next, Shi Feiyang’s left hand short saber lashed out like a venomous snake, straight at the cultivator’s throat.
The cultivator was panic-stricken, hurriedly sidestepping to dodge but was still a step too slow; the short saber sliced through his neck, and blood gushed out like a fountain, staining the surrounding air red.
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