Before Fang Jingyi could protest further, a surge of qi rippled from Lin Zhaoyue.
With a casual sweep of her hand, she thrust Fang Lian straight through the barrier.
"Go on, my dear!" Lin Zhaoyue's voice rang out, wild with excitement. "Get them all! Show me everything you've got!"
Behind her, Fang Jingyi went pale, the blood draining from her face. The sheer horror of the scene crushed her composure, and she crumpled to the ground in a faint.
Outside, Fang Lian stood in silence, her expression unreadable as she watched the sea of cultivators.
The attackers, startled at first, quickly shifted their focus. Dozens of them broke from the air and charged straight at her.
Without a word of complaint, Fang Lian's sword was in her hand.
The air around her dropped to an icy chill as she whispered, her voice cutting through the chaos like the edge of her blade.
"Tyrant Light Sword—First Form: Divine Line."
