"What did you say?"
The black-robed cultivator took half a step forward. All the resentment Yue Ting had put him through now fell upon Qing Chen.
"A mere country cultivator-"
Qing Chen's five fingers, hidden within his sleeve, suddenly closed.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Eight streaks of interwoven black-and-white demonic light erupted from his body without warning.
Before the black-robed cultivator could finish his sentence, two of those streaks had already skimmed past his sides.
In that instant, he even saw the densely layered bone joints on the banner poles. Supreme-grade demon banners? You great fool, what are you doing?
The yellow-faced cultivator's expression changed drastically. The high-grade scarlet saber beside him slashed forward almost instinctively.
But the saber light had barely risen when a muffled flap of a banner sounded overhead.
The Di Jiang Demon Banner rose high above them. A faceless, eyeless, six-winged demonic shadow extended half its body from the banner, its four feet pressing against empty air. Rings of folds of varying depths immediately appeared in the surrounding space.
The other seven banners took their positions at the same time.
The stone pillars, Tidal Channel, and Suspended Stone Beam before the three men suddenly blurred. Their escape route was clearly only a few hundred zhang away, yet it seemed separated from them by a thousand miles.
The wind still sounded beside their ears, but their connection to the outside world had abruptly faded with that flap of the banner.
The yellow-faced cultivator finally realized something was wrong.
Qing Chen, however, gave him no time to reassess.
The Eight Demon Banners swept inward together, pouring torrents of gray-black mara death qi from within,
with strands of the death rule interweaving through it, swiftly staining the entire space within the formation a gloomy shade.
Countless pallid points of light