The sudden shadow carried an unknown terror. Its hidden sharpness was so piercing that even Iron Tower felt pain from the depths of his heart.
Seeing this, Zhao Jian hurriedly closed his eyes and raised one hand before his throat like a palm.
The clash of metal rang across the blood-red wasteland, a vibrating sound so nauseating it nearly made people vomit!
Clang!!!
By the time the various martial artists turned to look over.
Zhao Sikong had already withdrawn both hands into his sleeves, his face cold. Beneath the afterglow of the setting sun, his hands were nothing but chaotic shadows, yet they gave off an inexplicably hair-raising chill, as if some kind of weapon were hidden within them.
Zhao Jian, meanwhile, was baring his teeth in pain.
There were harsh white scrape marks across his eyelids, while the palm he had held before his throat looked as if it had been struck by some heavy object. A small pit had been visibly dented into it. The sunken flesh could not recover for the time being, clearly indicating an injury, though it was not serious.
Any other Spirit Cultivation Practitioner here would have been utterly astonished.
The Fierce Heavenly General's iron-tower, dragon-elephant physique.
It was so absurdly tough that he could charge forward under heavy-machine-gun fire without suffering a scratch. Among martial artists, it could only be described as monstrous.
And yet Zhao Sikong had actually managed to injure Zhao Jian with a single strike.
This was enough to prove that even Zhao Jian could not completely resist the Shadow Heavenly General's mental landscape.
"Watch your mouth. Sooner or later, that mouth of yours will get you killed." After reprimanding the blockhead, Zhao Sikong respectfully bowed to Lan Yi.
"Acting on my own in front of the Immortal Master was