Zhao Chuang was greatly shocked. Three sword auras rushed at his face. Han Ziyi, who was standing in front of him, was at least an expert in the Pulse Condensation Period. His speed was so fast that Zhao Chuang had no time to react and could only watch the sword auras passing by his throat.
Right then, noises echoed in the grass around him. Dozens of silver needles as thin as hairs darted out. Then, three mysterious figures in white robes stepped out of thin air.
"Mystic Gate Art!"
Han Ziyi's face changed color. Forced by the silver needles, he lost the great opportunity to kill Zhao Chuang.
"Fellow Cultivators of the Heaven Wolves Sect, don't believe in the Lie Wind Sect—the enemy has defected and turned into a devil!"