Though they were dozens of yards away, a shrill sword cry suddenly rang out through the night.
In the blink of an eye, fifty-eight spirit swords had already slashed toward Wang Xian. They moved so swiftly that they might as well have split a snow-capped mountain in two in an instant.
Two dark figures lunged forward, one ahead of the other, like dragons surging toward him.
From where she hid in the darkness, Meng Yu saw their overwhelming momentum roar like a river in flood, about to swallow Wang Xian whole.
Moving at such extreme speed, the spinning spirit swords shattered under the strain of their high-frequency rotation. To Wang Xian, the scene before him seemed to unfold into an endlessly expanding sword formation.
Every streak of swordlight foretold death, following those slender trajectories to cut him down.
In a flash, in an instant.
Any one of those swords could leave him gravely wounded.
Especially the last sword that flew from the black umbrella, with one assassin in front and the other behind. It nearly cleaved a vacuum through the night before him.
Yet the fiercer their Sword Qi, the more excited Wang Xian became.
The stronger the enemy!
The more wildly he fought!
As Old Zhang's disciple, he couldn't let two men in black kill him with a single sword just like that—even if the sword formation posed a terrifying threat and its momentum was still building.
Or rather, this battle had finally let him taste the thrill of slaughter!
You want to kill me? Good. I want your Storage Rings, too.
Come on! Come on!
A flicker of surprise crossed Meng Yu's eyes in the darkness before she looked toward Wang Xian.
She wondered how he would break the formation. Did he need her to step in and