One peck, One Drink

At the centre of the Concealed Dragon River.

The Elders of the Twelve Clans had all surrendered; bitterness and helplessness covered their faces.

Hovering in the air was a youth. He held a metal fan and had sharp and icy eyes. The weirdest part about him was the layer of metal that had overlapped his skin, even his clothes and hair seemed to be metallic.

The cold and metallic aura infiltrated the space nearby, seemingly freezing it - not a single breeze of wind was present.

“Tiexiao True Lord, the Twelve Clans have surrendered and are willing to serve the Iron Dragon strong country. Are you going to kill all of us?”

The Grand Elder of the Cloud Sword Clan suppressed his anger as he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.

As a sword cultivator of the True Mystic Rank, he had slashed towards Tiexiao True Lord’s body and had caused sparks to fly, but the opponent was uninjured. Instead, he had been hit by a terrifying rebounding force.