Such an impact, even the strongest Martial Artist would collapse and die from exhaustion.
He turned his head and said softly to the Strategist beside him. As the command flag waved, more troops were mobilized, surging forward, their weapons densely waving in front of him, the blades of swords and knives reflecting the winter's pale light, reminding Wang Anfeng of the starlight on the Shaolin Temple during his youth.
The weapon in his hand, not quite a weapon, was covered with the martial Qi of the Divine Weapon, seemingly also aware of its master's emotions, letting out a clear whistle. Jianghu's Martial Artists had emerged, and with a flick of the wrist, a sword was sent to resolve a battle.
The dazzling sparkle of extraordinary splendor surged from below and soared into the sky.
Cuts appeared all over his body, but such wounds no longer carried the slightest pain for the advancing figure, instead feeling very satisfying and invigorating!
