Ning Yuan Rong Zhao

The flowing liquid water, rapidly solidified, transformed into white solid ice, still retaining its spiral shape, carrying a penetrating force. 。The frenzied foot stomped, leaping from the golden dragon palanquin, snatched up an iron rod, and with a sudden sweep... 。His iron rod wasn't an ordinary object, heavier than a mountain peak. When he swung it, ripples like waves formed all around. 。,Three and a half Step Saint Kings surrounded him at once. Fen Mo instantly felt the pressure, immediately retracted his smile, and caressed his iron rod. Suddenly, a series of tadpole-shaped runes appeared on the surface of the iron rod.,Just a little bit. 。If my cultivation were to advance further, Zhang Ruochin would definitely not be able to withstand this sword of mine. 。“The Eastern Flow Sword Saint felt a tinge of regret.” 。"Zhang Ruochin, your cultivation seems to have increased a lot. No wonder you dare to rush over alone." 。Unfortunately, you've met us two. You're destined to drink hatred today. 。。