Yan Huan, that bastard, even in death he wants to drag me down with him!
Swoosh——
The sound of wind breaking resounded as Meng Chuan bent backwards, narrowly dodging the sneak attack of the blood blade once again.
"I need to deal with this blood blade first, then proceed to handle the black fog..."
If Yan Huan could summon the Whisper of the Mountains itself, Meng Chuan would just accept his fate.
But that was clearly impossible.
Rustle rustle...
The blood blade once again spun into a flower of swords, surrounding Meng Chuan with hundreds of blood streaks from all directions. Meng Chuan forced himself to stay calm, neither dodging nor evading, patiently using his perception and Qi Observation Skill to distinguish them.
As the nearest blood streak was about to slash at Meng Chuan's neck, he suddenly pulled his head back into his neck. The flower of flesh shimmered with a dim light, reemerging like a tortoise listening to the thunder!
