On the periphery, Liu Qing and several Qingfeng Gang muscle-transferring masters, who were brimming with determination to surround and kill Su Mu, felt a chill in their hearts. Their once resolute intent to kill began to crack and crumble.
Watching Li Feiyu, who was demonstrating Vajra Possession and simultaneously utilizing three distinct martial arts to confront them, their confidence in encircling and killing Li Feiyu wavered.
The disparity in power levels seemed insurmountable.
How could a few lean wolves pose a threat to a tiger king entrenched in the mountains?
At this moment, Lu Heng's arms were stark white, hanging limply, his face a grimace of agony as he let out low growls. The elder coughed up several mouthfuls of blood, his expression heavy. His gaze swept over the irreparable Three-foot Cyan Blade in his hand, unable to conceal his heartbreak.
