Inside a secluded stone house in the distance, two men stared slack-jawed as Yi Chen effortlessly dealt with three high-level cultivators. Their mouths hung open in shock. "What's going on? How could they fail to withstand even a single move?"
A richly dressed man muttered, "Strange. There was nothing wrong with the intelligence this time. Those fellows should have been weak... no, could it be..."
A thin man frowned. "Forget it. Let's find a chance to capture him first. We're short on manpower, and we can't let someone else beat us to it. I suspect this brat has gotten into bed with that Demon Dragon Hall..."
The thin man's figure suddenly blurred and vanished from the room. The richly dressed middle-aged man left behind rubbed his nose with a bitter smile. "Why do I feel you might have a point?"
The black smoke rising from the three skulls slowly condensed into three tiny balls of light. Yi Chen beckoned, and the balls fell into his hand before swiftly merging into his body. A faint black glow radiated from him, and a trace of black scales appeared on the surface of his skin. A pair of wings slowly unfurled from his back, carrying him lightly into the air as he gazed coldly at the three old men before him.
The three old men exchanged glances, then drew their swords and charged. Each used a different technique: sharp, domineering saber light, ferocious claw shadows, or bizarre, unpredictable hidden weapons.
But their moves looked like child's play to Yi Chen. He stepped into the circle of saber shadows where the assault was fiercest, the Black Blade whirling in his hand. With a succession of cracks, hundreds of flashes of blade light swept past. Apart from the two thin old men who fled in