The palm wind was like turbulent waves of the sea, layer upon layer, spreading crazily in all directions.
Wherever it reached, the accumulated snow was swept up one after another, wildly dancing in the air, being drawn into the center of the storm, forming a white vortex.
At the same time, Shi Ying seized this chaotic moment, with a crisp "clang" of the sword, like a meteor streaking across the night sky, the sword in her hand was unsheathed.
The blade gleamed with cold light, reflecting her slightly twisted face of anger, like a demon crawling out of hell.
Her figure was as light as a butterfly dancing among the flowers, her posture graceful, her movements elegant, yet carrying a deadly danger, quickly leaping down from above.
At the moment of her descent, her left hand waved like lightning, with a "whoosh" sound, a Cold Soul Poison Needle like a disturbed swarm of black bees, densely enveloping Shi Xiong.
