Zhang Xiaoyi had a foul mouth.
He carried specially made firearms that could fire elemental bullets.
If you ignored him, he kept cursing, taking potshots from a distance with little "pew, pew" sounds as he cursed.
If you tried to kill him, he ran.
After several rounds of this, the burly bald man was consumed with fury, desperate to kill him.
He chased Zhang Xiaoyi outside.
In the hall.
Only Nangong Sirui and the middle-aged man remained.
"Die!"
The middle-aged man lashed out with both claws, carving black afterimages through the air.
Nangong Sirui blocked a few strikes, then suddenly noticed that the skin on his arm had been broken.
The golden Yaksha Mask on his face flashed, transforming into a fiery red Yaksha Mask.
"Disperse!"
With that low shout, Nangong Sirui scattered into clusters of flames that drifted through the air.
All the middle-aged man's attacks missed. His expression grew grave as he said:
"A yaksha's body?"
All the flames gathered together, forming Nangong Sirui.
Now the mask on his face turned blue-green, its expression full of mirth, and he said:
"Slash!"
In an instant.
Layers upon layers of spatial rifts became cutting edges that slashed toward the middle-aged man.
The middle-aged man gritted his teeth and shouted in a low voice:
"Dharma Form, unfold. Netherworld Ghost Domain."
"Getting impatient after just a few exchanges? Fine, let's settle who wins and who dies," Nangong Sirui said teasingly.
He formed a hand seal and unfolded the Dharma Form behind him as well.
"Stop fighting, both of you."
A voice came from far away.
Both men looked back.
They saw Shen Ye racing over from the other end of the underground palace. Panting, he said:
"I found the dwarf demons up ahead. They seem to have dug up some treasure-I suggest