At that moment, a black-robed cultivator behind him bowed slightly and reported, "My lord, those Demon Race members from the Liulan Dynasty are on their way."
At this, Su Lijing immediately came back to himself and ordered, "You may all withdraw."
His subordinates obeyed and left.
In the vast garden, only Su Lijing remained.
He picked up the spirit tea before him, took a sip, and nodded slightly.
Pei Ling had challenged Zhong Kui Youzhi of the Liulan Dynasty, Tie Xiongtuo of Yanxi City, and Cen Fangwo of Suzhen Heaven in succession, winning all three battles. He was bound to have plenty of trump cards.
So, no matter how badly he was injured next, caution dictated that some Dao Integration experts be sent to test him.
And those Demon Race members from the Liulan Dynasty were just right for the job!
Five-Color Valley.
The miasma, once complete with all five colors, had vanished amid the clash of blade and sword. The dust and smoke, mingled with water vapor, were slowly settling.
On the ravaged valley floor, He Fuqiong stood proudly, facing Pei Ling in the air.
The hem of his crow-colored Magic Robe had been cut away. Blood seeped from the smooth, sharp wound, slowly soaking the front of his robe.
Pei Ling's black robe was completely drenched in blood as he hovered in the air. Its hem fluttered, and warm droplets fell one by one. Yet his aura only grew stronger. His blade intent towered like ten thousand overlapping Mountain Ranges, bearing down upon the heavens.
A jade sword hovered beside He Fuqiong, its sword intent as piercing as a lone moon in a frosty sky, hanging over the still night and casting its light upon all things. It was lofty and proud, its chill vast and imposing.