Lin Fan woke up groggily.
The last image in his mind was Ling Wudeng's ferocious face suddenly appearing in the darkness, wielding the Black Sword and slashing down at his head.
He had no choice but to raise the Xuanyuan Sword with all his might to block it.
Clang!
A loud sound, like thunder, exploded in Lin Fan's ears.
The two swords clashed, sparks flying everywhere.
Lin Fan grew increasingly exhausted, his legs already sunk nearly a meter into the ground!
Every bone in his body was creaking, as if ready to shatter at any moment.
His internal organs were churning, as if trying to rush out of his throat.
That feeling.
Was unbearable, worse than death.
If not for Mo Ningxiang supporting him, he might have already collapsed into the pit, his Divine Sense obliterated.
Though Lin Fan was cornered, he was constantly thinking of counterattacking.
But Ling Wudeng showed not the slightest flaw, leaving him no chance at all.
He could only await death.
Indeed.
