Lu Qingshan's speed was incredibly fast, like a ghostly apparition.
When he charged into the ranks of the Demonic Cultivators, it was like a wolf entering a flock of sheep.
Neither the sharp Demon Soldiers nor the ferocious Demonic Qi could touch his body; they couldn't even slow him down.
Lu Qingshan was like a sharp arrow, effortlessly piercing through the battle line formed by over a hundred Demonic Cultivators, with penetrating power.
Wherever the seemingly slender edge of his sword passed, those strong Demon Race members who were fully manifesting their Divine Demon Bodies were smashed like eggs hit by an iron hammer, with flesh and blood splattering everywhere.
Lu Qingshan's face showed no expression.
The continuous slaughter had long made him accustomed to the act of killing.
The sword rang like thunder, its momentum like a rainbow.
