The four had formed an encirclement around Su Xin, and the pressure they exuded was completely different from before.
Previously, aside from Mo Wuwei, who had been determined to kill Su Xin, the other three had all been somewhat halfhearted.
But now, none of them held such thoughts any longer. Murderous intent showed on their faces, as if they would not rest until Su Xin was dead.
Last time, Fan Luojia had retreated first, allowing Su Xin to escape. But this time, Fan Luojia struck first. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, black flames burned within them, looking incomparably sinister.
Since ancient times, the place with the strongest martial arts inheritance had been the Central Plains, which was why the Central Plains' inheritances could be called martial arts.
As for places like the Southern Barbarians, Eastern Yi, and their Western Regions, what they had originally inherited were not martial arts at all. Calling them secret arts would have been more appropriate.
As the foremost sect of the Western Regions, Zoroastrianism's true trump card was not powerful martial arts, but the most bizarre of secret arts: sacrifice!
Sacrifice differed from burning one's blood essence or primordial spirit. Burning blood essence and primordial spirit merely pushed one's own potential to its utmost limit, consuming only the power within one's own body.
But sacrifice was different. One could sacrifice not only oneself, but others as well. And the object of that sacrifice was the deity spoken of by Zoroastrianism—though in most people's eyes, what they sacrificed to was likely the malevolent thoughts, sinister forces, and other such things within this world.
Fan Luojia spat out a string of strange incantations. As the chant rang out, a yin wind howled through the air, accompanied by the shrill wails of malicious