Wu Dong entertained no such dreams at all. Since his opponent intended to crush them, he would make him pay a sufficiently painful price.
His gaze fixed coldly on his opponent's waist.
While weathering the might of heaven head-on, the black robe had been all but shredded, exposing the fitted clothes beneath-few would notice, but Wu Dong would never miss it.
There, a Pouch-shaped Bead swayed gently.
The black-robed figure shifted as violently as a venomous dragon whipping its head around. Within that tiny space, the pouch almost within reach snapped backward, and the next instant, a fist with the power to overturn the seas came to meet him.
After abandoning his sword, Wu Dong had practically staked his life on a chance to destroy this object. Now he had no room left to maneuver. An Zang's hand seal was only half complete; he could only stop to save Wu Dong first, but a swift flash of sword light appeared behind the black robe a moment sooner.
It thrust straight toward his waist.
Li Weiru's bloodstained clothes were still wet, his expression cold and stern. Treading branches and leaves, he had swept in with a sharp, drifting turn. This [Treading Water, Plucking Scales] was outrageously fast!
Sure enough, the black robe's oncoming fist stopped dead, sending ripples surging through the night sky.
But the next instant, the terrible consequences of reining in a tiger from behind began to show. Before Li Weiru's sword could reach the pouch, the astonishingly swift black robe had spun around, the Strange-Colored Opera Mask staring coldly at him.
The saber light slipping free of [Jade Tiger] carved out a killing intent of bitter cold.
If Wu Dong and An Zang were still foxes and cats capable of trading a few advances and retreats with a