Xia Qingtian raced like a gray wolf across the ground, remaining vigilant every moment as he sped along.
As they pressed forward, all they saw ahead were routed soldiers.
Men from Nine-Blade Stronghold, White Cloud Stronghold, Black Blade Stronghold, and Green Mountain Fort were throwing away their helmets and armor, fleeing in a headlong swarm.
Xia Qingtian did not stop them. This was no time to stand and fight. His brothers from Nine-Blade Stronghold were the capital in his hands; he could not squander them here.
When the two had penetrated roughly a hundred and twenty zhang into the fog, White Cloud Stronghold's chief, Meng Yunshan, suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Found him!"
His eyesight was a little sharper than Xia Qingtian's.
Seventy zhang ahead of them, Xi Quan was locked in fierce combat with a burly man wearing an iron mask.
The man was extraordinarily massive, standing about twelve feet tall, his body covered in knotted muscles like iron blocks. He resembled an iron tower.
His body hair was extremely thick, and crimson scales covered his chest and arms.
He held two enormous cleavers.
Each cleaver was roughly six feet long and three feet wide-as broad as a door panel. Yet in his hands, they looked like kitchen knives held by an ordinary man.
Every stroke crashed toward Xi Quan with the crushing weight of a mountain and ferocious momentum.
Xi Quan's lanky frame seemed to have become an actual bamboo pole, swaying every which way under the blows of those huge blades.
"A half-demon?"
Xia Qingtian and Meng Yunshan were both startled and exchanged a glance.
Understanding dawned on them.
No wonder West Mountain Hall's fifth-grade martial cultivator kept himself hidden. He was a fifth-grade half-demon!
Just then, Xi Quan shouted furiously, "What are you standing there for? Help