Amidst the rolling storm clouds of Qingting Peak, lightning and fire burst into brilliance! Lightning illuminated the skies! Heavenly fire blazed! The battle raged fiercely!
Damn it, how is this possible! Just who are these people! Such thunder magic, even the three great sects can't remain unscathed by it!
Zheng Zetian couldn't see the sky, nor the moon, and could only tilt his head as much as possible, looking at the distant forest, where shadows shifted under the light from the lightning and fire.
Amid the flashes of lightning and the torrential blood of the Qilin falling from the sky, everything was splattered.
In the midst of the lightning, the blood rain, and the roaring thunder,
someone approached.
Treading upon the lines of blood on the ground, the person walked towards Zheng Zetian.
Zheng Zetian used the Turtle Breath Technique to hold his breath and feign death. Of course, given his current mangled heap of flesh appearance, he hardly needed to pretend.
