"The sky shines." Ye Fusheng looked at the smiling sky, the sharp poison on the cherry blossom began to "swallow" his skin, and the skin of his right arm turned red, with blood flowing continuously,.

Tianzhao looks a little sad: "it's a pity that Nangong died without wind. There are no three unique things in the world from now on." He bowed deeply to Nangong Wufeng.

Ye Fusheng pulled out Kunwu sword, resisted the pain of the skin that seemed to be bitten by thousands of ants at the same time, and the fine sweat was shed on his forehead. He had never been in such a mess when he...