My Arrows

The black silhouette could be called a mountain range, and it could also be described as the arm of a demon god.

At the very front of the mountain range, precisely the part of the sky over Chen Changsheng's and Xu Yourong's heads, were five mountain peaks that looked just like five fingers.

The storm of swords descended upon these mountains, dust rising as the rocks cracked.

The speed at which the mountains sank down grew slower and slower until, finally, they stopped.

In this entire process, Xu Yourong never once glanced up at the night sky. She seemed unconcerned, and one could naturally understand this as the trust she had in Chen Changsheng.

She thrust the temple sword into the grass beside her.

There was a soft whoosh as smoke began to rise from the grass, but it did not burn. On the contrary, the grass grew straighter and seemed even more full of life.

She took a longbow made of tong wood from her back.