The rings of iron armor were stretched thin by the gnarled flesh, casting a massive shadow from the towering figure. The body, covered in blood and grime, had pieces of flesh dripping from the gaps in the armor, projecting an incomparable sense of oppression.
From the slits of the face armor, eyes stained red stared fixedly at the Taoist, a thick murderous aura seeped forth, condensing into the roar of a tiger and wolf.
Zhao Shourui gazed from afar at the scene, the murderous intent in his eyes even more intense than before. He rubbed the Peach Wood Sword with his fingertips, murmuring repeatedly, "Not enough, still not enough..."
Still not enough to kill that Taoist,
Still insufficient to reclaim... the Tai Sha Sword.
Unexpectedly, Zhao Shourui's lips buzzed, murmuring two words almost simultaneously with the Ghost Lord: "Tai... Sha..."
As the voice faded, Chen Yi suddenly sensed a buzzing from the Sword Box on his back, his face darkened.
