Lan Xiaodie felt as if her heart was a clear mirror, knowing that she was now at the edge of life and death, and any slight misstep would lead to her demise.
The surrounding air had turned solid, so oppressive it was difficult to breathe, with each breath carrying the taste of rust.
She clenched her silver teeth tightly, her jaw making a grinding sound, and rolled swiftly on the ground, moving as nimbly as a wild cat evading predators in the dark of night, with her fur bristling in vigilance. Simultaneously, her hands seemed imbued with Magic Power, becoming two afterimages that danced swiftly, creating a slight "hissing" sound in the air.
She pulled out a handful of toxic needles from her bosom, which gleamed with a ghostly cold light in the sunlight, exuding a slight sense of eeriness, as if injected with an evil spirit. With a wave of her delicate hand, the toxic needles shot toward the Beggar Sect Disciples like a swarm of venomous bees.
