What Elder Fengxiao meant was...
The Wind Sword Sect actually had no intention of giving up on the Bloodfang Demon Tiger?
Li Zhixian's eyes flickered.
"We, too, wish to witness a ten-thousand-year Bloodfang Demon Tiger."
He smiled.
"Brother Buyu, Elder Fengxiao, how about... we join forces?"
At his words, delight rose in Feng Buyu's eyes.
He truly longed to see Li Zhixian's sword.
Elder Fengxiao, however, raised a white brow and sized Li Zhixian up from head to toe.
"You?"
Just one word.
Yet the disdain behind it was unmistakable.
"It is not that this old man is unwilling. I simply do not wish for you to lose your lives for nothing."
Li Zhixian's smile did not fade.
He paid Elder Fengxiao's contempt no mind.
If one wished to cooperate with others, one naturally had to display convincing strength.
He took a step forward.
Buzz—
Two bewitching purple Spirit Rings abruptly rose beneath his feet.
In an instant.
Centered on him.
The wind pressure surged, his white robes billowing as wood chips filled the air. Even the pervasive scent of blood was swept away.
To the Wind Sword Sect disciples, this sight was no less shocking than the ten-thousand-year demon tiger.
"Pur... purple?! Thousand-year Spirit Rings?!"
"His first two rings are both thousand-year rings?! How is that possible?!"
"Which Titled Douluo's monstrous descendant is this Li Zhixian?!"
Feng Buyu stared fixedly at Li Zhixian, his gaze blazing.
In his excitement, he unconsciously tightened his grip on the hilt of the sword on his back again.
If the timing had not been wrong, he would have loved nothing more than to draw his sword at once and contend with Li Zhixian in the way of the sword.
"Thousand-year Spirit Rings..."
Elder Fengxiao's eyes were filled with disbelief.
The Wind Sword Sect