The black and red fire mist intertwined, coiling and churning like a column of smoke shooting straight upwards. It climbed higher and higher, reaching over a hundred zhang in no time, as if it sought to pierce through the cloud tops. Then came a resounding explosion—within a few breaths, the smoke column dispersed and transformed into a thick black-red cloud that spread across the sky, spanning several li and shrouding all the moonlight.
Feng Zhen laughed heartily, leapt upward, and vanished into the misty cloud in an instant.
His display of power left the disciples present stunned. None had expected such means from him. Those unfamiliar with his name began eagerly inquiring about his background.
Zhang Yan fixed his gaze on the thick smoke, deliberating for a moment. With a slight movement of his finger, he sent out a streak of sword light to probe.
