Ning Yuan Rong Zhao

Zhang Ruochin soared out of the Golden Stepped Dragon Palanquin like a great peng spreading its wings. The space before him twisted and warped, becoming a swirling vortex.,The final, sharp tip of the sword stopped, about three inches from Zhang Ruochin's heart.,From the palm of Fang Yi, a small and exquisite flying knife shot out. It transformed into a slender light trace, aiming for Zhang Ruochin's brow.。