"Awooo!"
For a time, savage roars erupted, sword light crisscrossing and dancing wildly. Very soon, several Refined Corpses had their heads chopped off, but the sword light had also exhausted all its power because of that, growing dimmer and dimmer, until at last it turned into specks of starlight and scattered within the sea of mist.
Yet this small loss, compared to the unending stream of Refined Corpses, was not worth mentioning. Lin Xuan's expression was incomparably gloomy. What the other party had cast should not have been an illusion, so how could these Refined Corpses be real? And in such a vast number, too—it truly made one feel that the situation was becoming somewhat troublesome.
Before the thought had even fully turned through his mind, Lin Xuan suddenly raised a brow, as if sensing something, and without a word stepped one pace to the left.
Then his figure abruptly vanished.
Lin Xuan's reaction could not be called slow. Almost the very instant he dodged, spatial fluctuations suddenly arose from beside him, and a streak of cold light almost brushed past his body as it pierced through his afterimage.
Lin Xuan turned his head, and what entered his eyes was a Bronze Short Halberd, its patterns mottled, clearly an Ancient Treasure of no ordinary power.
Using the Refined Corpses to draw his attention, then letting this treasure ambush him?
Lin Xuan seemed to have grasped a little of the other party's intention. Yet just then, sharp gleams suddenly flared, and several more points of cold light appeared in his field of vision.
Lin Xuan did not dare be careless. His figure flashed, and he dodged once again, yet contrary to expectation, no danger came striking this time.
That cold light vanished halfway through its flight. It was nothing more than