Ning Yuan Rong Zhao

Fang Yi was first slightly stunned, and then, a flash of anger appeared in his eyes.,The final, sharp tip of the sword stopped, about three inches from Zhang Ruochin'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. 。。