In the blood-red forest, ancient trees shattered in clusters, stone mountains collapsed, and the surface was covered with several-feet-wide black cracks everywhere.
The golden silk parasol was repeatedly sent flying, its light dimmed, teetering on the edge of breaking, yet it flew back each time, with broken magic chains intertwining over its surface, locking onto the blood-colored creature.
It once said, lost the cattle, released the birds, such banter was to reassure Qin Ming; it was in a brutal battle, the real situation was severe and tragic.
Qin Ming kept descending, reaching deep underground.
The Third Dao Seed was surrounded by Divine Light, Feather Robe fluttering, diving forth; although it was transcendent and unworldly, it was also filled with an invisible atmosphere of slaughter.
He did not smile, cold intent hidden deep in his eyes.
