Lu Wujue froze slightly, clearly recognizing Long Yan's voice. What surprised him wasn't just why Long Yan was here—it was the black flames on Long Yan's body.
The black flames on Long Yan's body seemed almost sentient, showing no sign of extinguishing under the snowstorm. Instead, they burned even more vigorously, like a reaper in the storm.
Lu Wujue leapt up from the snow, but it was too late to rescue Long Yan now. Even wielding the Supreme Sword would make no difference. Long Yan had already ventured into the very heart of the snowstorm. With Lu Wujue's eyesight, he could no longer see Long Yan's figure—not even the traces of those black flames.
He couldn't help but let out a silent sigh. Elder Tiancheng landed lightly beside Lu Wujue. Just moments ago, he too had seen Long Yan dash inside. Watching the increasingly ferocious snowstorm, even Elder Tiancheng himself couldn't guarantee survival in such conditions.
