Ning Yuan Rong Zhao

Fang Yi turned to look, only to see a chariot of golden splendor being pulled by nine giant dragons, surging out of the darkness at high speed.,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. 。。