White Dew unleashed its fierce power.
The man in the black robe took aim at Bai Changkong, while ominous winds stirred, echoing cries and laughter filled the air.
A thick fog covered several nearby streets.
In Lu Qian’s mind, his divine soul’s light was as calm and still as an ancient well, with no hint of danger to be sensed.
Yet, the voice of the woman behind him suddenly echoed, causing a violent stirring in Lu Qian’s divine soul.
The hair on his neck stood on end as an overwhelming sense of danger surged forth.
Without turning his head, Lu Qian activated the Pure Zen Light.
A brilliant, clear golden glow burst forth, tranquil and serene.
The sword he wore at his waist gave a sharp clanging sound as it jumped free from the sheath on its own, slicing out in a sweeping arc fiercely toward the threat behind him.
“Bald monk, you’re the worst,” came a sweet voice like a silver bell—but suddenly, its tone shifted cold.
A soft shimmering dark golden radiance bloomed, spreading out to block the Pure Zen Light.
The golden and dark golden lights crashed together, giving off sharp hissing sounds, like red-hot iron striking ice.
The two rays gradually dissolved into each other.
Lu Qian felt his divine soul’s light continuously draining.