Ning Yuan Rong Zhao

As the golden chariot of King Jin was about to crush Fang Yi, he remained unfazed. He bit his tongue tip and instantly, bloody red lines appeared on his face, extending from his lips all the way to his eyebrows, merging into Bai Weixing. 。,Dongliu Jianzun's sword, piercing into the spatial vortex, did not deviate in direction. It pointed straight at Zhang Ruochen's heart. 。,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. 。。