Feng Qingyang: Are There Any Normal People in the Demon Cult?

Feng Qingyang drew his sword once more.

Xiao Longnu had merely struck casually, yet her sword qi tore a deep ravine straight through the earth.

"The Cult Master does not like killing. Get lost."

That single strike completely intimidated Feng Qingyang.

Zhao Min sighed helplessly from afar. "The Cult Master does not like killing? Then who does?"

"This person's swordsmanship has likely reached the pinnacle. Compared to us ninety years ago, there is hardly any difference."

As a swordswoman herself, Zhou Zhiruo naturally understood exactly what level Feng Qingyang occupied in the current martial world.

"Ninety years ago? Little girl, you cannot be more than twenty years old, yet you dare spout such nonsense!"

Feng Qingyang was so angry his liver hurt.

"Think whatever you like. This is not a suitable place for fighting."

Huang Rong held a bamboo-shaped staff made of green jade. With a flick of her wrist, the true qi that surged into the air frightened every wild beast on the entire mountain.

Like ocean waves, the true qi swept toward him, crushing everything in its path.

It terrified even Feng Qingyang, who had believed Xiao Longnu to be the strongest among them.

What kind of monsters were these?

If the Demon Cult was this powerful, what the hell were the righteous sects supposed to resist with? That dog emperor obsessed with alchemy ought to get lost as well.

"What a Sun Moon Cult."

Though Feng Qingyang had retired from the martial world, if he allowed such a powerful Sun Moon Cult to run wild, he would have to pass the Dugu Nine Swords down to the Five Mountains Sword Sects.

They had to oppose the arrogant Sun Moon Cult. Otherwise, neither the martial world of the Central Plains nor the people of the realm would have