Anlan was wounded, being pursued, rendering the desert silent for a moment, not a sound to be heard!
Because it was so impactful.
This was the Immortal King Anlan, yet today he tasted defeat, with blood dripping from the corner of his mouth, being chased, suffering significant injuries.
"Where do you think you're going!"
The three masters, each possessing world-shattering Divine Skills, performed supreme techniques, blocking the path ahead, and a fragment of time flew around, accompanied by a sword core slashing down.
Clang!
Anlan parried the sword core with his right hand holding the golden battle spear, his eyes glowing brightly. Naturally, he was unwilling to concede, even though he was retreating, evading the sharp edges of the three masters, deep down, he was very unwilling.
He believed that the drop of blood wouldn't last long, that it could only burn brilliantly for a moment, unleashing the power of past glory.
