The cold wind sweeping through the valley carried fine ice crystals across Long Xiaoyao's aged face, stinging like knives.
Ye Xishui was still gasping in his arms. Crimson blood dripped from her swollen, misshapen lips and stained the black robe over her chest.
The Death God Douluo, who had once looked down on all living things as if they were ants, could not even speak. Light and black mist swirled around her in chaotic waves.
Long Xiaoyao's heart sank.
The situation could hardly have been worse. He had no idea how many more trump cards the young sect master in the Taiji Dao Robe held. Even the Soul Spirit beside him, formed from the Snow Empress, a Ferocious Beast nearly seven hundred thousand years old, would take everything Long Xiaoyao had to handle.
Ye Xishui could no longer fight. Worse, she had become someone he had to protect.
Against two opponents alone, even a Level 99 Limit Douluo renowned for a century could hope, at best, to pay a terrible price and escape badly wounded with a half-dead Ye Xishui.
He could not hesitate any longer. Every moment he delayed made survival less likely!
Long Xiaoyao made his decision. He gently pushed Ye Xishui behind him and shielded her with his broad back.
He stepped forward, a sharp light blazing in his clouded eyes.
"Roar!"
A piercing, mournful dragon cry burst from Long Xiaoyao's body, shattering the valley's silence.
Darkness as thick as ink surged from beneath his feet and rapidly ate into the Snow Empress's domain of ice and snow, staining the falling snowflakes an eerie black.
Yellow, yellow, purple, purple, black, black, black, red, red!
Nine brilliant Spirit Rings rose in succession beneath Long Xiaoyao. The last two, scarlet rings representing hundred-thousand-year cultivation, radiated a chilling ferocity through