Clang! Clang! Clang!
Like the sound of forging iron, both sides were fiercely clashing, tearing apart everything and annihilating all.
The one making the move was an elder of the Dragon Race, standing there, a terrifying storm in the void, with an annihilating will that obliterated everything, his strikes were overpowering.
The elder's hands were empty, without any Magical Treasures or Secret Techniques, just a pair of Iron Fists causing him to retreat step by step.
The Long Saber swung to kill but was unable to counter the enemy.
As the Dragon Race elder fought, he coldly said, "Young one, hand over the Nascent Souls of those two. You won't leave today. If you are willing to become my apprentice, I swear to protect you. Life and death hang on the choice you make!"
...
At this moment, around the perimeter, Nascent Soul Cultivators discussed and watched the battle.
Like watching a monkey show.
