At this moment, the Pure Origin Gang Wind Feng Ling unleashed swept the Lan Clan Patriarch's Dharma body into its vortex. Only then did he realize something was wrong. That Dharma body was sustained by only the tiniest trace of vital energy—clearly an empty shell with nothing behind the name.
In other words, this was not the Lan Clan Patriarch's Dharma body at all. He had deceived him.
But when had it begun? If this was not the Lan Clan Patriarch's Dharma body, where was his true Dharma body? And where was his Primordial Spirit?
Feng Ling knew he had reached a perilous, hair-trigger moment. Perhaps from the instant he stepped onto the arena, he had already fallen into the Lan Clan Patriarch's trap.
The sole deciding factor of victory or defeat no longer lay with him, but with Meng Zhao and Zhao Rulíng.
Now, he could only hope that the Lord of the Northern Meng Dragon King would live up to his renowned name and detect the anomaly. Otherwise, one moment of carelessness would mean his defeat.
Beyond Feng Ling's sight, a hazy, indistinct shadow flashed past. From outside to within, it burst into the Pure Origin Gang Wind that connected heaven and earth. The instant it entered the gale, it exploded into countless dark-blue currents, transforming into innumerable lightning serpents that twisted and slaughtered one another with the Pure Origin Gang Wind.
Only then did Feng Ling realize just what kind of perilous situation he had fallen into.
From the moment the battle began, the hazy light wrapped around the Lan Clan Patriarch's Primordial Spirit had given everyone—including Meng Zhao and Zhao Rulíng, who had used the Wind Listening Technique to probe the situation—a sensation of chaos and disorder. Their minds became muddled and dazed.
It was in