As Gong Simeng immersed herself in this romantic and poetic atmosphere, the fierce battle between Shi Feiyang and Qiu Yanhong had already reached a fever pitch.
Each time Qiu Yanhong swung her sword, the piercing cold surged like a tidal wave, as if an invisible giant hand instantly solidified the surrounding air, producing a sizzle sound.
Under the shroud of this bone-chilling cold, the opponents only felt a chill piercing straight into their hearts, their limbs seemingly frozen, making their movements involuntarily sluggish, each subtle motion as if exhausting all their strength.
Qiu Yanhong's figure was agile and light, her Swordsmanship sharp and swift, each move and form meticulously crafted, precision itself, showcasing her deep Inner Strength cultivation, with fluid movements as if performing an elegant dance, yet with a hidden lethal intent.
