Not bad at all

Zheng Hu gripped his sword tightly, poised like an arrow drawn back in a bow, waiting for the right moment to release. That moment arrived a second later.

With fierce momentum, Zheng Hu charged straight into the cluster of falling stars, the scarlet flames around him burning with even more intensity as they enveloped him, transforming into a majestic bird bathed in red-orange flames. It radiated an aura of royalty, further reinforced by the crest atop its head that formed a sort of crown.

The bird let out a terrifying screech that split the air and resounded throughout the abode, its beak brimming with deadly sharpness.

"Zheng Hu's sword intent is fully formed now, and his merge with the Descent of the Vermilion King of the South is flawless," Yang Qing noted with appreciation as he watched Zheng Hu charge into the barrage of shooting lights.