After parting with Xiao Ran, Yang Ying directed the flying vessel toward Cloud-Soaring Terrace. Just as they were about to reach the jade platform, another flying vessel approached head-on. If neither altered course, the two vessels would pass close by one another.
Daoist Li had been sitting there with a placid expression, but at that moment, a sharp glint suddenly flashed through his eyes.
When Yang Ying saw that flash in his eyes, her heart gave a jolt.
All along the way, he had not put on a stern face or acted deliberately solemn simply because Yang Ying was his junior. Instead, he had been very easygoing. If not for the Daoist robe he wore, one could not sense in the least that he was a cultivator who had refined Primordial Spirit Shadow Reflection. Yet now that his imposing presence emerged, it sent a shiver through her heart.
Just as the two flying vessels were about to draw near, the spiritual radiance on the opposing vessel abruptly went out. Then it seemed to sway very slowly before rolling to one side and plunging down from a height of a thousand zhang.
Only when it was about to strike the ground did the vessel's pilot, his face deathly pale, manage to steady it. Still shaken out of his wits, he had no idea why the flying vessel, which had been flying perfectly well, had suddenly begun to sink and fall.
As if recalling something, he turned to look behind him. The two cultivators who had been seated there had tumbled to the floor, drool spilling from the corners of their mouths as though they had lost consciousness.
At the same time, inside a hall at Cloud-Soaring Terrace, a group of young scions from powerful families had gathered together. They were watching