After mastering all the arts of three different races, Ye Fengsheng had once killed Kunlun's leader. Yet he did not rely on his brute strength, but on the advantage he gained by peering, through the dimness behind his eyes, into the channels and pathways of Spirit. He could not set foot upon the main thoroughfare.
But at the brink of life and death, no one cares about the path or the method; as long as one survives, that is the right way.
His soles pressed into the ground, crushing the petals in the garden to dust. The Sword Array beneath Ye Fengsheng's feet suddenly rang out; two Spiritual Swordslayers shot into the air, draping a layer of killing intent over the Sword Array.
Pei Qi naturally would not sit by and watch. As the Sword Array formed, the drooping sleeves of his robe had already become calm and natural. A fierce aura surged out from his sleeves, ramming straight toward Ye Fengsheng's chest.
The Sword Array hummed; souls twisted into powder.
