Bian Ziyuan

At this moment, 36,000 Sword Intents blasted out along with his palm.

As the distance was too close, the black-robed Grand Yan Immortal could not dodge at all. All of the Sword Intent was absorbed by him.

Clang!

The incomparably clear Sword Intent sent him flying. The black-robed Grand Yan Immortal was like a kite with a broken string, falling headfirst into the void.

Jian Wushuang couldn't hold on any longer. His figure was like a flash of lightning as he fell into the void.

The old man, who had barely managed to stand straight on the ground, raised his head and saw this scene. His entire body instantly trembled.

Then, he pounced forward and caught Jian Wushuang who was falling.

Looking at him, who was covered in divine blood and heavily injured, the old man gritted his teeth and placed him behind his back.

"Don't go, put him down!"