Jiang Shouzhong's gaze fell on the disheveled Qiu Zixin, and he said indifferently, "This is the second time we've met, right? Where's that Liu Xunhua who rescued you last time?"
"This is... Dragon Soul power?!"
Qiu Zixin, acutely perceptive, sensed the overwhelming pressure emanating freely from Jiang Shouzhong's body, her expression filled with terror.
She instinctively took a few steps back, hurriedly looking up to the sky.
Hoping the Immortals above would intervene.
But aside from the gloomy clouds, the sky showed no sign of movement.
Desperation gradually spread in her eyes.
At this moment, the Yin Spirit Envoy, originally immobilized by the powerful dragon's presence, struggled to stand up.
"Brat..."
The Yang Spirit Envoy's face twisted like a fierce ghost.
He wiped away the filthy blood still dribbling from the corner of his mouth, reaching into his robe to pull out a secret talisman entangled with sinister black mist, which he hurled into the sky.
