Ning Yuan Rong Zhao

The flowing liquid water, rapidly solidified, transformed into white solid ice, still retaining its spiral shape, carrying a penetrating force. 。The frenzied foot stomped, leaping from the golden dragon palanquin, snatched up an iron rod, and with a sudden sweep... 。His iron rod wasn't an ordinary object, heavier than a mountain peak. When he swung it, ripples like waves formed all around. 。,Of course, the sword speed of the East Flow Sword Venerable became slower and slower. 。The sword qi on the blade, also warped space, gradually dispersed. 。,Just a little bit. 。If my cultivation were to advance further, Zhang Ruochin would definitely not be able to withstand this sword of mine. 。“The Eastern Flow Sword Saint felt a tinge of regret.” 。"Zhang Ruochin, your cultivation seems to have increased a lot. No wonder you dare to rush over alone." 。Unfortunately, you've met us two. You're destined to drink hatred today. 。。