Ning Yuan Rong Zhao

Jin Bu Long's momentum was unstoppable, like a bamboo forest being swept away. He smashed through three Wan Wen Sacred Artifacts in succession, shattered four sacred arts, and rushed towards the Sacred Mansion at lightning speed.,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. 。,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. 。。