The sword-light howled, figures flickered.
Blood Spears shot fiercely, sweeping all before them.
Everyone knew that battling against a Martial Ancestor comparable to Class VI was like hitting a rock with an egg.
The cultivators dared not and could not engage in combat here, for if they fell, the Sect far away on Fenglin Continent would be even less able to resist the True Martial Army's advance.
At once, they decisively fled swiftly in all directions.
Yet Wang Xu stood there, staring blankly at the youthful swordsman who transformed into sword-light and came flying toward him, ignoring the fleeing cultivators around him.
The young cultivator had finely complimented features, red lips and white teeth, yet subtly resembled that figure who always lingered in Wang Xu's heart.
"So it's not an illusion just now..."
He mumbled absent-mindedly in a low voice.
Buzz!
Two sounds of sword cries had already flown over.
