"Be careful! Little Luo is really strong!" Li Qinghe warned him, then flew after them.
Yan Hui looked at the densely packed Taiji Seals not far ahead and muttered, "Even if you hadn't said anything, I could see that!"
Grumbling to himself, he nervously hurried after them.
Countless sigils collided in the night sky, scattering tiny sparks that drifted down. They were like flecks of snow, or willow fluff filling the air, yet no one dared approach or touch them.
Watching the sigils collide again and again without diminishing in number, Zhang Xiaofan grew increasingly anxious.
Even with Li Qinghe and Yan Hui's help, they still weren't making much progress.
He glanced at the Ice Dragon, still wheeling aimlessly through the sky, and felt utterly helpless. At last, he hovered in the night sky, a swirling Taiji Seal beneath his feet, and struck a sword pose.
When Li Qinghe saw this, she quickly gestured for Yan Hui to fall back with her.
Ignoring Yan Hui's confusion, Li Qinghe led him through the air to a spot behind Zhang Xiaofan.
Only then did Yan Hui notice that something was different about Zhang Xiaofan. Remembering the rumors he had heard about the disciples of Big Bamboo Peak, his eyes immediately lit up with fervent anticipation.
Before long, a red light suddenly blazed across the sky.
The wind had risen!
Even the residents fleeing near the city gates in the Imperial City felt a razor-sharp edge in the wind brushing their faces. Some even thought the breeze had sliced their skin. But when they raised a hand and found no blood on their fingertips, they finally breathed a sigh of relief.
"Dreams play out in the mortal world; with one thought, gods and demons arise. Once the sword is drawn, there's no turning