Long Qingxuan's figure blurred.
One moment she was standing there—
The next, her fist was buried in Meng Xuan's stomach.
BOOM!
The Blood Tyrant coughed blood, his body bending from the impact. But he laughed, grabbing her wrist before she could pull away.
"Good hit," he wheezed. "But not enough."
He slammed his forehead into hers—
CRACK!
Long Qingxuan staggered, but she dug her heels in, refusing to fall.
Yue Zhihe rejoined, her sword weaving intricate patterns of frost that slowed Meng Xuan's movements.
Qian Jinglei harassed from the sidelines, her lightning strikes chipping away at his defenses.
Linlin and Qingqing coordinated their attacks—the White Tiger's brute force combined with the Wind Spirit's elusive hit-and-run tactics.
And at the center of it all, Long Qingxuan pressed forward, her draconic aura clashing against Meng Xuan's blood-soaked domain.
Yet despite being outnumbered five to one, the Blood Tyrant held his ground.
Every wound healed instantly.
