Tang San Stood Up Yet Again

Zhou Qiubai leaped high into the air with the force of the fiery wave, his entire body rising into midair.

He looked down at the two men below. Moonlight shone from behind him, coating his white clothes in a clear, radiant glow.

His left hand rested behind his back, while the sword in his right finally left its sheath completely.

At that moment, Tang Lie and Tang Qingqing both felt a chill shoot from their tailbones to the backs of their necks.

Zhou Qiubai descended upside down, his sword tip aimed straight at the earth.

The sword light was no longer a faint, intermittent silver thread, but had fully blossomed.

A beam of moonlight pierced the clouds and fell, while ten thousand crimson flames sank toward the ground.

The sword moved with the grace of flowing water, never allowing dust or fire to touch his robes.

It was like a silver river falling from the Ninth Heaven. Countless fine sword gleams were wrapped within its waters, each one precisely aimed at the openings of Tang Lie and Tang Qingqing.

Tang Lie raised his hammer in an upward swing, trying to meet it head-on.

But before his hammer had even risen halfway, the silver river had already passed through the force of his swing.

Tang Qingqing thrust his hammer diagonally from the side, attempting to seal off Zhou Qiubai's landing point. Yet the silver river seemed alive, splitting into several tributaries that bypassed the wind of Tang Qingqing's hammer and went straight for his throat.

The two retreated at the same time, staggering back seven or eight steps before barely steadying themselves.

As the silver light dispersed, Zhou Qiubai was already standing where they had originally stood, his sword tip hanging at an angle, his white clothes untouched by a speck