When Luo Feng suddenly stopped on the mountain ridge ahead, Steward Zhao seemed somewhat taken aback.
The Martial Artist before him wasn't lacking in Qinggong skills by any means. In his estimate, he would need to chase him for several more miles before he could catch up.
Could it be a trap?
Looking at Luo Feng's calm expression in the distance, a thought flashed through Steward Zhao's mind, only to be immediately dismissed.
He had reached the seventh stage of the Spiritual Rotation Realm a year ago. In the face of absolute power, any schemes or tactics were futile.
A cold smirk touched his lips. Steward Zhao's figure shimmered and appeared in mid-air above the mountain ridge.
"Boy, come here!"
Standing proudly in the void, Steward Zhao reached out his right hand and pressed downwards.
WHOOSH...
Suddenly, a house-sized palm made of cyan Yuan Qi materialized out of thin air, crashing down toward Luo Feng.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
