Sheng Tong's heavy hammer was a Dharma artifact refined through eighty-eight layers, nearing the fifteenth heaven. When it fell, it truly possessed the force to shatter mountains and pierce the sea. With a single smash, though the Crimson Cloud Dharma Robe was a supreme treasure of the age whose thousand layers of rosy light could ward off blades, halberds, water, and fire, it still struggled under a strain that seemed unworthy.
The sword hummed. At the critical moment, Ling Jiao's flying sword parried the lower edge of the heavy hammer. That streak of sword light had already lost its physical form, leaving only a frigid, piercing sharpness coupled with a resilient nature. She used supreme, exquisite sword control to forcefully deflect the heavy hammer along with the vast, profound force contained within it.
Seeing this, Sheng Tong did not utter a single sound. With a slight movement of his feet, he hooked Fan Qing up and, carrying a mighty force, crashed straight toward Ling Jiao. Behind Ling Jiao's flank, the half-dead centipede suddenly surged. Its mouth opened wide, and a dark-yellow elixir qi spread out, enveloping a radius of three zhang and wrapping everyone inside. Evidently, Fan Qing suffered the greater portion of the damage.
A smile had long vanished from Ling Jiao's face. The cold glint in her eyes was piercing, and she was already enraged. Until this moment, she had no chance to figure out why Sheng Tong would defy universal condemnation and launch a counterattack.
Fan Qing was her close friend and had to be saved. On one hand, she used the rosy light of the Crimson Cloud Dharma Robe to entangle Sheng Tong's heavy fist; on the other, she used her flying sword to fend off the heavy hammer. Dividing her focus further, she thrust out