At the foot of Zhi Xuan Mountain.
Light and darkness shifted and changed, flickering erratically.
The view twisted here, as if space and time had been turned upside down.
The Silver Masked Man's figure flashed, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, leaving layer upon layer of afterimages.
For a moment, it seemed as though countless figures had appeared in this place.
Even his sword strikes varied in speed.
The order of events seemed to fracture severely before their eyes.
The figure in front had clearly already dissipated, yet the figure behind still remained, leaving endless afterimages.
But the only thing that never changed was the corpses collapsing one after another.
At that moment, Jiang Ning activated the Tai Xu Yin Yang Sword and charged toward the mountain gate, like a tiger plunging into a flock of sheep.
Behind him, corpse after corpse fell to the ground.
Filthy blood flowed everywhere.
Red and white matter spread across the ground.
A moment later, Jiang Ning arrived at the mountain gate leading toward Middle Finger Mountain.
Following the stone steps upward, he saw them disappear into the lush greenery.
Behind him lay quite a few Grandmasters who had once enjoyed illustrious reputations, now collapsed lifelessly on the ground.
At this moment, Feng Zhen watched Jiang Ning's back as the mountain wind sweeping down from above stirred his robes. A feeling of grandeur suddenly rose in his heart.
The scales of victory were still tipping, yet the instant this man wearing the Silver Mask made his move, he had settled the battle in the blink of an eye.
What level of swordsmanship is that? Recalling the disturbance caused when the Silver Masked Man had made his move, he secretly drew in a cold breath.
The void shifted, the view twisted, light flickered between brightness and