At the base of the cliff, sunlight scattered in spots, the rustling of leaves could be heard.
Zhang Rongfang's figure flickered left and right, each evasion seeming like a coordinated drama with his opponent.
His figure was always positioned perfectly in the gaps of the elder's attacks and defense.
No matter how he struck, the elder's Crescent Shovel always missed Zhang Rongfang by just a tiny bit.
Countless streams of qi and blood flowed, accompanied by silver lines, changing on his body.
In Zhang Rongfang's vision, the changes in the qi and blood on the opponent's body were different from normal people.
Ordinary people only had qi and blood flowing, but on this elder, there were some additional silver lines.
'That must be the Spiritual Veins....' he thought to himself knowingly.
Suddenly, he recalled a piece of common medical knowledge.
