"What should we do?" At this moment, the leader of the six was in chaos and panic.
The spear thrust by Zhao Long before him contained a force beyond imagination, far beyond what he could contend with.
Retreating continuously, he took a deep breath, held his battle sword horizontally in front of him, and the soul energy within him roared like a furious river, flooding into the battle sword through his palm.
In an instant, the battle sword in his hand expanded rapidly to the naked eye.
Within the sword's body was hidden a secret, and the eight-eyed Divine Race, whose face was blocked by the enlarged sword body, showed a strange smile.
At this moment, the force contained in his battle sword was an eye-for-an-eye kind— the stronger Zhao Long's attack, the greater the damage he himself would suffer.
By then, the opponent would inevitably be wounded by his own attack, retreating heavily injured, and at that time, he would step forward to kill him with a single strike.
