"Sssst!"
The veil was sliced open as if it were mere paper, and a cold gleam surged straight toward Mu Qing's head.
Mu Qing's face changed dramatically; only now did she realize how sharp this blade was.
Attempting to evade, it was already somewhat too late.
The blade wavered mid-flight, transforming into a scattering of shadows, and with a flash, it vanished into thin air.
Realizing the danger, only a layer of green armor flashed over Mu Qing's body, while numerous giant silver blades appeared all around her.
The sharp whistling from the blades came together, and waves of eerie cold light surged forward, enveloping Mu Qing impenetrably.
Mu Qing's face turned as pale as a sheet, but she clenched her teeth, and suddenly shook both sleeves, producing a black short stick in each hand.
A slight motion of the sticks conjured a mountain-like shadow before her, and she dashed directly toward one of the cold lights.
