When did Ye Fengsheng remember an old thing that was always beaten under pressure? He couldn't suddenly perform such a stunt. In his haste, he held up his sword to block it, but it was too late. All he could do was open his mouth backward and spit out a syllable to block it.
Just like slicing tofu with a knife, the sound wave disappeared instantly beneath that sharp edge. The dark red ripples in Su Zong's derogatory eyes had already landed on Ye Feng's shoulder, cutting through flesh and blood, exposing the bright red underneath.
Under the long-term suppression of an old adversary, he was injured by a depiction of light, an old thing ended, Ye Fengsheng couldn't accept it.
As he turned his head to glance sideways at his own shoulder, and turned his body in and out of flesh, the old man was already carrying a captive animal staff, striking his head and face fiercely with Ye Fengsheng's voice!
"Drink like a club!"
