The Martial Saint's Third Disciple, Xiang Yuan!

At the foot of Profound Finger Mountain.

Light and darkness shifted, flickering uncertainly.

Vision warped here, as though time and space had been turned upside down.

The silver-masked man's figure flickered, now fast, now slow, leaving countless afterimages.

For a time, it seemed as though innumerable figures had appeared here.

Even his sword strikes varied in speed.

The sequence of before and after became severely fractured in one's vision.

The figure ahead had clearly already vanished, yet the figure behind still remained, its afterimages unceasing.

But the one thing that never changed was the bodies falling one after another.

At this moment, Jiang Ning wielded the Grand Void Yin-Yang Sword and charged toward the mountain gate, like a tiger entering a flock of sheep.

Behind him, bodies crashed to the ground one after another.

Foul blood flowed everywhere.

Red-and-white pulp spread across the ground.

A moment later, Jiang Ning arrived at the mountain gate leading up Middle Finger Mountain.

Looking up along the stone steps, they vanished into lush greenery.

Behind him lay no shortage of once-renowned Grandmasters, now lifeless upon the ground.

As Feng Zhen looked at Jiang Ning's back, his robes billowing in the mountain wind pouring down from above, he immediately felt that figure to be towering and majestic.

The scales of victory were still tipping. Yet as soon as this silver-masked man had made his move, the battle had been settled in an instant.

What level of swordsmanship was that? Recalling the commotion when the silver-masked man had struck just now, he secretly sucked in a breath.

The void shifted, vision twisted, light flickered.

All those strange phenomena showed that the swordsmanship used by this silver-masked man was far more exquisite than he could have imagined.

Then he took another quiet breath and stepped forward of