On the ruined main street of Bloodrock Market, an overwhelmingly one-sided death trap had already been laid.
The rogue cultivators all around, desperate to seize a pledge of allegiance in exchange for their lives, had gone completely mad. More than a dozen high-grade spiritual rhinoceros swords, sharp enough to slice through iron like mud, screamed down from the air, wrapped in blinding true essence of every color.
Sharp ice lances and searing fireballs mingled with the flying sword formation, carrying terrifying shrieks through the air powerful enough to shatter an iron peak on the spot as they blanketed all thirty-six vital points across Lu Chen's body.
As such a dense barrage of immortal killing techniques descended at once, the spiritual-pressure storm it kicked up alone crushed several demon-bone shops along both sides of the street into powder.
Before such frenzied bombardment by immortal arts, a mortal body of flesh and blood should have been reduced to a heap of mangled pulp in an instant.
Yet Lu Chen did not dodge at all.
His legs were like ancient tree stumps that had stood for ten thousand years, nailed firmly into the bluestone slabs. His center of gravity sank into the earth, while thick dark-red veins of blood qi churned wildly across his bare chest.
He gathered all his blood qi before his chest, wrapping the thick Netherwind Wolf pelt around A-Nan so tightly that not even a drop of water could seep through.
As for himself?
Facing the life-stealing flying swords chopping down upon him, Lu Chen's dark-blue hands, broad as palm-leaf fans, did not even rise half a foot.
No defense! No evasion!
What tyrannical disregard! What utter contempt for the lofty methods of cultivators!
"Clang! Boom!"
The rain-like flying swords and spells crashed solidly against his pitch-black skin membrane.